AT   LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 

.C.DeG-armo 


SONS  OF  STRENGTH 


Historical  Series 


SONS  OF  STRENGTH 


KANSAS 

By 

WILLIAM  R.  LIGHTOH 


New  York 
Doubleday,  Page  &  Company 

1906 


COPYRIGHT,  1899,  BY 
DOUB^EDAY  &  McCI<URE  CO. 


To 

my  thret  •women-folks, 

My  Mother,  my  Wife  and  my  little  Daughter, 

whose  love  has  inspired  all  that  is 

good  in  me  and  in  my  work, 

this  story  is  solemnly 

dedicated. 

WILLIAM  R.  LIGHTON. 


M 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  I  REALIZE  MYSELF i 

II.  I  REALIZE  A  FEW  OTHER  THINGS      .  10 

III.  TIME  PASSES       20 

IV.  A  MAN       29 

V.  OFF  FOR  KANSAS 44 

VI.    ELIZABETH 58 

VII.  SHADOWS  CAST  BEFORE      .....    66 

VIII.    ON  THE  NEW  Son, 81 

IX.  Au,  ON  A  SUMMER  NIGHT     ....    93 

X.  THE  SHADOW  OF  A  GREAT  ROCK   .    .  106 

XI.    AN  OI<D  FRIEND 119 

XII.    HOME  MAKING 133 

XIII.  A  NEW  ELEMENT      144 

XIV.  To  ARMS        157 

XV.    Ow>  JOHN  BROWN 165 

XVI.  A  PRIVATE  ENTERPRISE 180 

XVII.  A  BETRAYAL  AND  A  RESCUE  .  .  .193 

XVIII.  A  REUNION  AND  A  SEPARATION  .  .  .  204 

XIX.  IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  SHADOWS  .  .  .215 

xx.  PEACE 229 


SONS  OF  STRENGTH 


CHAPTER  I 

I  REALIZE   MYSELF 

ALTHOUGH  I  have  often  tried  to  find  my 
way,  through  the  weary  maze  of  days,  years 
and  events,  back  to  the  time  of  my  first 
awakening  from  the  dream-sleep  of  baby 
hood,  I  have  always  brought  up  sharply  at 
one  place,  as  against  a  blank  wall, — a  wall 
which  may  be  scaled  only  in  imagination. 
But  imagination  is  at  the  best  illusory  and 
unsatisfying. 

When  I  first  realized  myself,  I  was  sitting 
upon  dusty  grass,  by  the  side  of  a  dusty  road. 
A  pair  of  stubby  and  dusty  bare  legs  showed 
below  the  hem  of  my  torn  and  faded  calico 
dress.  The  evening  sky,  drooping  wearily 
over  me,  was  of  a  dusty  yellow  hue.  A  dusty 
canvas-covered  emigrant  wagon  was  moving 


2  Sons  of  Strength 

wearily  away  along  the  road.  The  whole  of 
the  prospect  seemed  grimy  and  gritty,  wind 
blown,  dull,  desolate. 

My  calico  lap  was  very  small,  and  it  held  a 
scant  crust  of  bread, — a  crust  so  pitifully 
poor  that  it  seemed  designed  to  threaten 
rather  than  to  appease  the  horrors  of  starva 
tion.  A  lean  brown  dog  limped  painfully 
after  the  wagon,  stopping  once  or  twice  to 
look  back  doubtfully  at  me.  At  last  it  turned, 
and  shambled  to  where  I  sat,  sniffing  at  me 
and  licking  my  face  with  its  moist  tongue; 
then  it  set  its  nose  against  the  bread  which 
lay  in  my  lap,  gulped  it  up  hungrily  and  ran 
away  with  it. 

Things  seemed  to  grow  very  big  and  sol 
emn  and  lonesome  as  I  sat  watching  the  slow 
jolting  progress  of  the  wagon.  It  was  an 
abrupt  and  strange  awakening,  past  the 
grasp  of  my  newly  aroused  understanding. 
I  remember  that  I  had  a  strong  desire  to  fol 
low  the  wagon,  though  my  tired  legs  did  not 
move.  I  felt  that  I  owned  some  sort  of  kin 
ship  with  it,  or  with  what  it  held,  or  maybe 
with  the  lean  horses  or  the  dog ; — I  could  not 
be  clear  upon  that  point.  Surely  there  must 
be  close  relationship  between  the  horses  and 


I  Realize  Myself  3 

the  dog  and  the  wagon ;  for  the  horses  were 
starved  and  ribby-looking ;  the  dog  was 
starved  and  ribby-looking;  and  the  wagon 
looked  equally  poor  and  wretched,  with  its 
canvas  skin  hanging  in  loose  folds  upon  its 
wooden  ribs.  Notwithstanding  its  appear 
ance  of  abject  poverty,  my  heart  yearned 
toward  it,  and  my  loneliness  grew  greatly 
upon  me,  as  the  distance  between  us  grew, 
until  at  last  a  misty  veil  dropped  down  before 
my  eyes,  through  which  I  Saw  a  vast  mis 
shapen  spectre  of  a  wagon,  swelling  and 
swelling ;  then  the  veil  thickened,  hiding  the 
spectre  altogether;  and  so  it  passed  out  of 
my  life. 

After  a  little  while,  When  the  mist  was 
gone,  I  began  to  look  about  me,  and  then 
I  found  that  my  back  was  propped  against  a 
high  brick  wall.  Some  large  trees  were 
leaning  over  the  wall,  with  their  elbows  upon 
the  top,  looking  down  at  me  in  stately  fash 
ion,  and  shaking  their  heads,  as  though  they 
were  as  much  puzzled  as  I  to  know  what  to 
make  of  the  matter.  While  I  sat  staring 
helplessly  up  at  them,  behind  the  wall  a  big 
bell  began  to  beat  slowly,  and  under  its  tone 
I  heard  the  sound  of  children's  voices — a 


4  Sons  of  Strength 

great  many  of  them,  all  going  at  once.  In 
the  wall  not  far  from  me  there  was  an  iron 
gate.  It  was  closed  tightly,  and  had  a  strong 
lock  upon  it;  but  the  iron  plate  was  full  of 
little  round  holes.  I  did  what  a  sound- 
minded  boy  must  do  when  he  sees  a  hole 
which  promises  to  lead  anywhere ; — I  got  up 
and  set  my  eye  against  one  of  the  peep-holes. 
What  I  saw  was  a  fresh  mystery. 

The  wall  enclosed  a  large  yard,  and  within 
it  there  stood  a  big  giant  of  a  brick  house, — 
square-shouldered,  solemn  and  fierce.  Its 
shuttered  windows  were  wide  open  and  star 
ing  fixedly,  like  glowering  eyes,  never  chang 
ing  their  expression  of  watchfulness.  Its 
big  front  door  was  gaping  wide  open,  too, 
like  a  huge  hungry  mouth,  and  into  it  were 
pouring  two  long  rows  of  children,  one  row 
of  boys  and  one  of  girls.  All  were  dressed 
in  the  same  way, — the  boys  in  blue  trousers, 
blue  blouses  and  blue  caps ;  the  girls  in  blue 
petticoats,  blue  aprons  and  blue  bonnets.  I 
could  not  see  the  children's  faces,  but  I 
thought  that  they  must  of  course  be  blue  too, 
and  I  was  surprised  when  one  of  the  boys 
turned  a  face  as  white  as  my  own,  only  less 
grimy.  Then  I  wondered  whether  they  had 


I  Realize  Myself  5 

been  born  in  long  rows.  They  were  cer 
tainly  dressed  by  the  row,  laughing  in  rows, 
talking  and  walking  in  rows.  The  only  de 
tail  in  which  they  were  not  alike  was  in  the 
matter  of  size ;  they  were  of  all  sizes,  within 
the  legitimate  limits  of  childhood. 

A  man  and  a  woman  stood  at  either  side  of 
the  door,  stuffing  and  crowding  the  children 
into  it,  as  though  they  were  feeding  long 
strings  of  sausages  into  the  giajit's  maw. 
And  he  appeared  never  to  have  enough,  but 
to  be  always  yawning  hungrily  for  more. 
But  at  last  they  were  all  inside,  and  the  man 
and  woman  after  them,  and  the  giant  closed 
his  jaws  grimly  upon  them. 

The  yard  which  surrounded  the  house  was 
darkened  by  the  shadows  of  great  trees.  The 
grass  beneath  the  trees  seemed  fresher  and 
softer  than  that  in  the  road,  and  I  wished 
that  I  might  get  inside,  to  lie  down ;  but  the 
gate  would  not  open,  though  I  put  my  fingers 
through  the  holes  and  pulled  and  shook  with 
all  my  strength.  Then  I  wished  that  the 
children  would  come  out  again  and  play,  so 
that  I  need  not  be  so  lonely ;  but  the  house- 
giant  would  not  give  them  up.  I  grew  very 
wretched,  without  quite  knowing  what  to  do 


6  Sons  of  Strength 

about  it,  unless  it  might  be  to  cry.  So,  being 
only  a  little  fellow,  I  lay  down  upon  the  dusty 
grass,  laid  my  face  in  the  hollow  of  my  arm, 
and  cried.  When  the  tears  and  the  sobs 
were  done,  I  got  up  and  once  more  put  my 
eye  at  its  old  place.  The  light  was  fading 
quickly  from  the  sky,  and  the  house-giant 
had  shut  its  many  eyes  and  seemed  to  be 
sleeping  soundly.  Everything  appeared  to 
be  growing  sleepy.  I  thought  that  the  very 
sky  was  going  shut,  as  the  glow  passed  out 
of  it,  and  the  sound  of  the  air  in  the  leafy 
trees  was  as  though  the  night  was  snoring, 
drawing  big  deep  breaths.  All  this  made  me 
grow  sleepy,  too,  besides  being  cold  and  hun 
gry.  When  a  boy  is  cold,  hungry  and  sleepy 
all  at  once,  sleep  mercifully  gets  the  best  of 
it ;  and  so  it  was  with  me. 

When  I  awoke,  it  was  to  still  greater  mys 
tery.  I  lay  in  one  of  a  long  row  of  little 
white  beds  which  were  ranged  along  the  wall 
of  a  big  room.  There  was  another  row 
against  the  opposite  wall,  and  every  bed  held 
a  boy,  his  head  sticking  out  of  the  covers,  his 
eyes  shut  and  his  lips  parted.  When  I  saw 
the  straight  rows  of  beds,  with  the  straight 
rows  of  heads  upon  the  straight  rows  of  pil- 


I  Realize  Myself  7 

lows,  I  guessed  at  once  that  the  house-giant 
had  been  prowling  around  in  the  night,  had 
found  me  lying  upon  the  ground  outside  the 
fence,  and  had  swallowed  me. 

The  room  was  very  quiet,  save  for  some 
sleepy  sounds  sifting  in  through  the  slats  of 
the  closed  shutters  over  the  windows.  It  was 
not  yet  full  daylight,  and  I  could  only  see  the 
room  indistinctly,  and  a  part  at  a  time.  My 
bed  was  very  soft  and  warm,  and  I  lay  quite 
still,  partly  because  of  the  sheer  comfort  of 
lying  still,  and  partly  because  I  could  not 
guess  what  might  happen  if  I  should  move 
or  make  a  noise.  Then  I  dropped  back  into 
a  deep  sea  of  delicious  comforting  sleep, 
while  daylight  broadened. 

At  last  I  came  awake  with  a  start,  hearing 
again  many  children's  voices,  making  a 
great  clatter.  Very  cautiously  I  peeped  from 
the  shelter  of  the  bed-clothing,  and  saw  that 
the  room  was  alive  and  swarming  with  boys, 
who  were  struggling,  squirming  and  wrig 
gling  into  their  blue  clothes.  I  was  reassured 
by  seeing  that  the  bare  legs  were  all  hopping 
and  skipping  merrily,  and  the  faces  all  smilng. 
A  man  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  look 
ing  on,  now  and  then  helping  some  of  the  lit- 


8  Sons  of  Strength 

tlest  boys  with  their  buttons  or  their  shoes. 
He  was  the  man  whom  I  had  seen  the  night 
before,  when  he  stood  by  the  doorway.  He 
was  very  broad  across  the  shoulders,  very 
tall,  and  he  had  a  brown  beard  which  hid  most 
of  his  face  and  covered  his  breast.  Another 
vague  sense  of  comfort  came  to  me  when  I 
saw  that  no  matter  how  much  noise  the  boys 
made,  this  man  did  not  try  to  make  them  be 
still.  He  laughed  with  them;  but  louder 
than  they  could  laugh,  his  voice  being  so 
much  bigger.  No  one  seemed  to  be  afraid 
of  him.  Some  of  the  little  boys,  while  he 
was  putting  on  their  clothes,  hugged  him 
around  the  neck,  and  kissed  the  small  bare 
places  which  his  beard  had  left  under  his 
eyes.  I  liked  him  from  that  time,  and  was 
sorry  that  there  was  not  a  long  row  of  him, 
too. 

Slowly  I  came  from  beneath  the  bed 
clothes  and  sat  up.  When  the  man  saw  me, 
he  came  and  sat  upon  the  edge  of  my 
bed,  taking  both  of  my  small  hands  into  one 
of  his  great  ones.  Behind  the  beard,  the  big 
voice  began  asking  me  a  great  many  ques 
tions,  none  of  which  could  I  answer,  though 
I  tried  hard.  I  could  not  even  tell  him  my 


I  Realize  Myself  9 

name, — if,  indeed,  I  had  one.  But  he  patted 
me  kindly  upon  the  head,  and  said  it  didn't 
matter.  He  had  gentle,  soft  eyes,  which 
seemed,  even  more  than  the  rest  of  him,  to 
belong  to  the  place ;  for  they  were  blue. 

I  was  taken  out  of  bed  and  put  into  one 
of  a  row  of  white  tubs,  full  of  warm  water, 
and  after  that  into  a  suit  of  blue  clothes; 
which  only  made  me  more  uncertain  than 
ever  as  to  who  I  might  be,  and  where  I  came 
from.  At  once  I  seemed  to  pass  away  from 
my  old  self,  whatever  that  may  have  been, 
and  to  become  lost  in  my  new  identity.  But 
before  I  had  time  to  wonder  very  much  about 
it,  the  man  took  me  into  another  room, 
larger  than  that  which  held  the  beds;  and 
there  were  the  rows  of  children  once  more, 
sitting  at  long  tables,  with  long  rows  of 
bowls  before  them,  filled  with  bread  and 
milk.  And  I  sat  down,  too,  and  began  to 
eat  bread  and  milk  with  all  my  might,  for 
getting  everything  else, — even  forgetting  to 
be  puzzled  about  it,  until  my  bowl  was 
empty,  to  the  last  drop  and  crumb,  and  I  sat 
up  straight  in  my  chair,  rubbing  my  lips  dry 
upon  the  back  of  my  hand. 


CHAPTER  II 

I   REALIZE   A   FEW    OTHER  THINGS 

THEN  came  a  long  row  of  days,  all  alike, 
each  whirling  up,  whirling  through  its  brief 
pirouette,  and  whirling  mysteriously  away, 
— all  going  in  such  mad  haste  that  I  could 
not  separate  one  from  the  others,  nor  remem 
ber  each  one  distinctly,  but  could  only  gasp 
and  catch  my  breath,  trying  to  grow  accus 
tomed  to  the  strangeness  of  it.  They  were 
notable  days, — days  which  held  plenty  to  eat, 
plenty  of  play  with  plenty  of  play-fellows, 
and  a  soft  bed  at  night.  They  were  days  in 
which  I  first  laid  hold  of  the  tail  of  that 
strange  beast,  Experience,  and  had  it  turn 
and  bite  me  vengefully.  They  were  days  in 
which  I  took  my  first  lessons  in  loving  and 
hating, — lessons  not  got  from  books,  but 
from  sharp  encounter  of  eye  and  tongue. 
Philosophers  have  made  fast  rules  for  love 
and  hate;  yet  when  they  themselves  take  to 
loving  and  hating,  they  forget  their  rules  and 
go  back  to  ruleless  impulse.  So  in  my  baby 


I  Realize  a  Few  Other  Things    1 1 

way  I  was  as  well  off  as  the  deepest  philoso 
pher  when  I  loved  impulsively  and  strongly, 
and  hated  with  equal  impulsiveness  and 
strength. 

Although  it  seemed  to  break  an  otherwise 
unbroken  rule  in  my  new  life,  I  could  not 
love  and  hate  by  the  row;  at  least,  I  could 
not  follow  the  arrangement  as  I  found  it, 
but  had  to  form  other  rows,  one  to  be  loved 
and  the  other  to  be  hated.  And  the  row  of 
those  I  loved  was  very  much  the  shorter. 

At  its  head  stood  the  big-bearded  man. 
His  beard  was  so  very  large,  hiding  so  much 
of  him,  that  when  he  spoke,  with  that  thun 
derous  roll  in  his  voice,  he  seemed  to  be  an 
ogre  roaring  from  a  hiding  place  behind  a 
thick  hedge.  But  what  he  said  was  so  gen 
tle,  and  the  blue  eyes  looking  through  their 
peep-holes  in  the  hedge  were  so  gentle,  and 
the  touch  of  the  broad  hand  was  so  gentle 
that  there  was  no  fearing  him.  I  loved  him 
wholly,  devotedly,  with  no  other  feeling 
mixed  with  the  love. 

Near  him  in  this  row  stood  the  woman 
whom  I  had  seen  on  that  first  night.  She 
was  large,  too ;  but  while  the  man  was  tall, 
her  bigness  was  all  the  other  way.  She  was 


1 2  Sons  of  Strength 

of  an  amorphous  figure,  and  pudgy,  with 
most  imposing  blue  yarn  ankles,  always  in 
evidence,  and  a  round  throat  full  of  deep 
rolls  and  wrinkles.  Her  sleeves  she  kept 
rolled  high  upon  her  goodly  arms.  She  had 
a  big  soft  breast,  where  a  boy  might  pillow 
his  head  and  be  comforted  when  things  went 
wrong  with  him.  She  was  always  laughing. 
I  never  saw  her  lips  in  any  shape  save  for  a 
laugh,  except  when  they  were  puckered  up 
to  kiss  some  one ;  and  then  a  laugh  was  sure 
to  come  tumbling  over  the  heels  of  the  kiss, 
tripping  itself  up.  Even  the  deep  dimples  in 
her  bare  elbows  seemed  to  laugh  at  us,  when 
her  back  was  turned.  In  the  mornings  when 
I  first  awoke  I  would  hear  her  laughing  gaily 
in  the  hallways;  then  I  would  begin  the 
new  day  happily. 

There  were  many  children  in  the  great 
house.  I  do  not  know  when  or  how  the 
knowledge  came  to  me,  for  it  came  a  very 
little  at  a  time;  but  by  and  by  I  knew  that 
this  was  a  home  for  such  children  as  had  no 
other;  though  how  or  why  they  had  none 
was  beyond  my  understanding,  and  perhaps 
even  beyond  my  desire  to  know.  It  took  me 
a  long  time  to  learn  about  the  names  of  the 


I  Realize  a  Few  Other  Things  13 

children.  In  the  economy  of  the  asylum,  we 
were  all  marked  with  white  numbers  upon 
our  blue  sleeves.  After  a  while  I  found  that 
there  was  a  big  book  kept  by  the  man,  in 
which  our  numbers  were  written,  together 
with  such  other  things  as  were  known  about 
us.  The  record  for  me  was  simply :  "  No. 
93.  Foundling.  Boy.  Age,  about  4.  En 
tered  October  2nd,  1837.  Found  at  Asylum 
gate." 

But  numbers  were  not  enough  when  we 
children  were  together ;  so  we  had  names  for 
one  another.  Some  had  brought  their  names 
with  them  when  they  came  to  the  place. 
Where  they  had  got  them  was  another  puz 
zle.  Those  who  were  nameless  upon  their 
advent  were  promptly  christened  when  they 
took  their  places  upon  the  playground  under 
the  trees.  By  slow  degrees  I  grew  to  under 
stand  that  my  name  was  Pokey  Up  jack.  I 
remember  that  I  had  a  certain  slow  way  of 
doing  everything, — a  slow  way  of  eating,  a 
slow  way  of  getting  angry,  and  a  slow  way 
of  standing  apart,  while  play  was  going  on, 
until  it  was  all  a  mad  whirl  of  excitement, 
when  I  would  be  sucked  irresistibly  into  the 
maelstrom.  So  it  was,  doubtless,  that  I  came 


14  Sons  of  Strength 

to  be  called  Pokey.      Whence  or  why  the 
Upjack  I  never  knew. 

There  was  one  of  the  boys,  a  little  larger 
than  I,  whose  name  was  Blinky  Meade.  He 
was  a  strange  little  fellow,  set  apart  from  the 
others  by  his  love  of  solitude.  Naturally 
enough,  he  and  I  drew  together  more  and 
more  closely  as  time  passed.  I  do  not  un 
derstand  why  he  was  called  "  Blinky,"  for 
his  big  brown  eyes  were  always  solemnly 
wide  open.  His  lips  were  very  red  and  full, 
and  his  face  was  covered  over  with  freckles, 
— freckles  so  large  that  he  seemed  a  brindled 
boy.  When  I  had  known  him  for  a  long 
time,  as  I  then  reckoned  time,  I  asked  him 
how  the  freckles  came  to  be  there,  and  be 
lieved  him  when  he  told  me  that  an  angel  had 
cried  over  him  one  night,  when  he  was  lying 
awake  in  the  dark,  full  of  the  wonder  of  lone 
liness,  and  that  the  brown  patches  were 
marks  which  the  tears  had  left,  so  that  the 
angel  «might  know  him  again  in  the  day 
light,  and  take  care  of  him.  He  told  me 
many  other  things  about  himself, — for  he 
never  willingly  talked  of  anyone  but  himself ; 
— and  I,  with  confidence  still  fresh,  believed 
him  in  all  things,  and  was  glad  that  so  re- 


I  Realize  a  Few  Other  Things    15 

markable  a  boy  could  be  a  friend  of  mine  and 
eat  my  apples,  when  I  had  any  to  be  eaten.  I 
do  not  know  what  he  would  do  with  his  own 
apples.  When  the  rest  of  us  had  them,  as 
sometimes  happened,  he  would  sit  by  my 
side,  his  hands  empty  and  his  brown  eyes 
wistful,  until  I  would  give  him  mine.  He 
never  asked  for  it;  but  when  it  was  offered 
he  would  take  it  and  eat  it  gravely,  and  be 
tween  bites  he  would  tell  me  things. 

"  This  here  ain't  my  home,"  he  once  said, 
as  we  sat  together  beneath  a  large  maple  in 
one  corner  of  the  yard,  he  with  my  freshly- 
bitten  russet-skinned  fruit  poised  in  his  hand. 
"  I  don't  live  here.  I'm  only  stayin'  here  till 
my  folks  come  for  me."  Then  another  medi 
tative  bite,  chewed  and  swallowed  while  his 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  waving  leaves. 
"  Where  my  home  is,  there's  a  big  house, — 
bigger'n  this;  lots,  with  all  my  folks  in  it, 
an'  angels,  an*  everything,  an'  lots  to  eat. 
An'  God,  he  comes  to  see  us  sometimes,  an' 
eats  dinner  with  us.  This  here  ain't  my 
home."  By  the  time  he  had  finished  an 
other  mouthful,  I  ventured  to  ask  why  he 
should  stay  in  the  asylum,  with  so  grand  a 
home  awaiting  him.  "  Why,"  he  said  read- 


1 6  Sons  of  Strength 

ily ;  "  God,  he  sent  me  here  to  look  after  you. 
What'd  you  do  here  without  me,  Pokey?" 
Which  was  not  to  be  answered  lightly.  And 
another  time  I  came  upon  him  when  he  stood 
alone  in  the  concealment  of  our  favorite  rest 
ing  place  under  the  corner  maple.  He  was 
eating  a  piece  of  bread  and  butter,  and  I  in 
continently  asked  him  for  a  bite.  "  Of 
this  ?  "  he  asked,  holding  up  his  bread  with  a 
show  of  vast  reverence.  "  Why,  Pokey, 
you  couldn't  bite  this.  There  ain't  nobody 
could  bite  this,  but  me  an'  God."  Then  he 
ate  what  remained,  slowly  and  with  much 
enjoyment.  I  tell  these  things  to  show  what 
a  strange  boy  he  was;  but  I  did  not  doubt 
him  then. 

Adjoining  the  asylum  yard, — indeed,  a 
part  of  it,  enclosed  within  an  iron  railing, 
was  a  little  graveyard.  Great  trees  grew 
there,  too,  and  made  it  seem  a  pleasant  place, 
despite  the  solemn  presence  of  death.  There 
were  buried  those  of  the  asylum  children 
who  had  died  within  the  walls.  The  tiny 
graves  lay  in  straight  rows,  each  marked  by 
a  small  white  headboard  standing  upright, 
with  the  dead  child's  asylum  number  painted 
upon  it  in  square  black  figures.  Even  in 


I  Realize  a  Few  Other  Things  17 

death  they  did  not  escape  the  rows  and  the 
numbers.  The  gate  which  led  into  the  en 
closure  came  open  easily,  and  anyone  who 
wished  might  go  in.  And  being  some 
times  disinclined  to  take  part  in  the  chil 
dren's  games,  I  got  in  the  habit  of  slip 
ping  off  alone  to  the  graveyard,  where  I 
would  walk  up  and  down  in  the  narrow  lanes 
between  the  headboards,  rubbing  the  dust 
from  them  with  my  sleeve,  and  wondering 
about  the  children  who  were  buried  there. 
Although  I  loved  and  reverenced  Blinky 
Meade  as  some  one  very  much  above  me,  and 
knew  that  I  could  not  pretend  to  the  social 
distinctions  which  were  his,  as  an  intimate 
of  God  and  the  angels,  I  could  not  be  quite 
reconciled  to  the  hard  fact  that  there  were  no 
folks  whom  I  could  claim  for  my  own,  and 
of  whom  I  could  talk  and  boast.  As  Blinky's 
stories  multiplied,  I  felt  a  little  bitter  about 
it,  and  thought  that  injury  and  injustice  had 
been  done  me, — though  by  whom  I  could  not 
say.  So  it  happened  that  in  my  longing  for 
some  sort  of  equality  with  my  idol,  I  formed 
an  attachment  for  one  of  the  small  graves, 
which  lay  in  a  pretty  shaded  corner,  and 
called  it  mine.  Slyly, — for  I  was  unwilling 


1 8  Sons  of  Strength 

to  make  public  confession  of  this  odd  affec 
tion, — slyly  I  learned  that  the  quiet  occupant 
of  this  mound  was  a  girl  of  six  years, — a 
foundling,  like  myself,  though  I  did  not  then 
know  what  that  meant.  I  was  glad  it  was  a 
girl ;  for  upon  the  whole  I  liked  girls  much 
better  than  boys.  So  I  took  care  to  keep  the 
headboard  standing  straight,  and  the  grass 
and  weeds  pulled  and  trimmed  away.  After 
a  time,  as  my  sense  of  proprietorship  grew,  I 
transplanted  some  white  and  red  clover  into 
the  earth  of  the  grave,  and  watered  it  with 
great  pains,  when  I  could  do  it  without  fear 
of  detection.  Then  I  would  sit  down  and 
plan  a  little  romance  about  my  folks  who 
were  buried  there, — a  romance  with  which  I 
intended  to  surprise  Blinky  some  day,  when 
I  had  wrought  it  to  completion.  But  at 
best  my  brain  was  clumsy  in  building  ro 
mance,  and  many  days  passed  before  I  dared 
think  of  letting  him  into  my  secret.  I  had 
never  heard  him  speak  of  any  graves  which 
were  his,  and  I  took  great  pride  in  thinking 
that  I  had  a  precious  possession  which  had 
been  denied  to  him.  At  last  one  day  I  took 
him  with  me,  and  with  some  misgivings 
showed  him  the  grave  and  told  him  a  breath- 


I  Realize  a  Few  Other  Things  1 9 

less  story; — that  there  were  my  father  and 
mother,  all  my  sisters  and  brothers,  and  a 
lot  of  angels  who  belonged  to  me,  enough 
to  people  a  small  paradise, — as  indeed  they 
had  done  for  me.  "And,  Blinky,"  I  said; 
"you  ain't  got  no  graves,  with  people  in 
'em."  But  in  the  flash  of  Blinky 's  eye  I  saw 
the  fire  which  was  to  burn  to  the  dull  ground 
my  first  air-castle. 

"  'Course  I  ain't,"  he  said  scornfully. 
"  What  do  I  want  with  old  graves  ?  My 
folks  don't  get  dead ;  it's  only  common  folks 
what  dies." 

Thereafter  I  neglected  my  charge,  and 
suffered  the  weeds  and  grass  to  grow  as  of 
old. 


CHAPTER  III 

TIME   PASSES 

I  HAVE  told  some  inconsequential  things, 
— things  which  may  not  all  belong  to  the 
proper  sequence  of  my  story.  But  when  an 
old  man  sets  about  telling  of  his  life,  or  when 
he  thinks  of  it,  in  the  deep  quiet  of  his  own 
mind,  he  is  very  apt  to  dwell  longest  and 
most  fondly  upon  some  of  the  little  things  of 
no  consequence;  for  they  may  be  more  a 
part  of  himself,  and  may  have  had  more  than 
the  larger  events  to  do  with  the  making  of 
his  manhood.  When  the  man  has  grown  to 
strength,  large  things  may  not  move  him; 
but  small  happenings  make  the  sum-total  of 
childhood.  Such  small  things  as  I  have  re 
lated  formed  the  bulk  of  my  life  until  I  was 
about  ten  years  old,  and  had  begun  to  learn 
something  from  books,  and  to  understand 
that  there  was  a  part  of  life  before  me,  for 
which  I  must  prepare; — which  I  believe  to 
be  the  crudest  lesson  of  childhood.  But 


Time  Passes  21 

they  were  happy  years ;  although  that  seems 
a  strange  thing  to  say  of  an  asylum  life. 

For  some  reason  not  to  be  explained,  un 
less  it  might  be  that  I  was  a  sober  little  fel 
low,  serious  and  grave-eyed  beyond  my 
years,  I  was  a  favourite  of  Hale's  (for  that 
was  the  name  of  the  big-bearded  man).  He 
used  very  often  to  have  me  by  his  side, 
when  he  would  talk  to  me  as  to  a  man 
of  his  own  understanding.  He  made  me  to 
love  books ;  especially  those  that  told  of  great 
events  which  had  made  and  moulded  men, 
and — still  more  wonderful  and  fascinating — 
those  that  told  of  men  who  had  made 
and  moulded  events.  Such  books  I  would 
read,  boy  though  I  was,  with  heart  beating 
fiercely,  and  with  brain  throbbing  full  of  wild 
blood.  He  also  taught  me  to  love  the  gentler 
side  of  human  character,  and  to  think  some 
what  of  what  men  had  been,  as  well  as  of 
what  they  had  done.  But  more  than  all  those 
things,  he  taught  me  to  love  himself;  and  al 
though  we  did  not  consciously  try,  that  was 
the  easiest  lesson  which  he  had  to  teach  or 
I  to  learn.  I  remember  him  now  as  I 
thought  of  him  then, — gentle  as  the  lightest 
breath  of  summer  air  in  the  trees,  strong  as 


22  Sons  of  Strength 

the  brown  earth,  and  true  as  the  blue  sky. 
As  I  loved  him,  so  do  I  love  his  memory. 

While  I  was  growing  up,  Blinky  Meade 
was  also  growing ;  but  he  seemed  to  grow  in 
all  things  much  faster  than  I.  I  have  said  of 
him  that  as  a  boy  of  six  years  he  was  a 
strange  little  fellow,  and  one  set  apart.  That 
became  more  and  more  true  of  him  as  he 
added  other  years  to  those  six.  He  was 
never  dependent  upon  any  one  for  the  good 
he  got  out  of  life ;  he  drew  upon  his  own  re 
sources,  and  thanked  no  one  for  aid. 

I  do  not  remember  when  I  first  grew  to 
understand  that  Blinky's  tales  of  wonder 
were  lies;  perhaps  that,  like  all  others  of 
those  early  lessons,  was  learned  by  slow  de 
grees,  so  that  the  disillusioning  might  not  be 
too  sudden  and  great  a  shock.  I  know  that 
after  a  time  my  slow  wits  understood  that 
Blinky  was  a  liar, — not  a  coarse  and  common 
liar ;  for  his  tales  were  often  marvels  of  vivid 
and  fervid  beauty :  still  he  was  a  liar,  and  no 
longer  the  same  to  me  when  I  had 
found  it  out.  I  hardly  know  what  to 
say  of  our  relations  after  that;  it  would 
matter  very  little,  save  for  what  was  destined 
to  come  to  us  when  we  were  men.  We  were 


Time  Passes  23 

still  very  close  to  each  other  in  many  ways; 
but  it  was  more  like  men's  friendship  than 
children's,  because  of  its  element  of  reserve 
and  distrust, — a  sad  comment  upon  man 
hood,  but  not  to  be  gainsaid.  It  was  Hale 
who  unwittingly  threw  this  vague  shadow 
between  us,  by  teaching  me  to  love  the  plain 
pure  truth  and  not  to  depart  from  it.  I  know 
that  I  reverenced  Blinky  less  when  I  had  so 
outgrown  the  innocent  confidence  of  child 
hood  that  I  was  able  to  detect  a  lie.  But  we 
were  always  friends;  he  was  the  only  child 
for  whom  my  heart  held  a  child's  faithful 
adoration.  I  relied  and  rested  upon  him,  for 
I  felt  great  need  of  friends.  He  relied  upon 
no  one  save  himself  and  the  creatures  of  his 
imagination.  He  had  a  sturdy  independ 
ence, — a  square  setting  of  his  head  upon  his 
little  shoulders,  and  a  way  of  flashing  strange 
lights  from  his  brown  eyes.  He  did  not  like 
to  obey  rules;  he  loved  to  set  his  foot  hard 
upon  the  tail  of  rule  and  propriety,  for  the 
pure  love  of  the  uproar  which  followed.  But 
I  should  like  to  say  once  more  that  I  loved 
him,  and  I  think  that  he  loved  me  as  well  as 
he  could  love  any  one  save  himself. 

I  have  passed  hastily  over  these  few  years. 


24  Sons  of  Strength 

I  should  like  to  dwell  upon  them,  but  I  could 
not  justify  such  lingering  by  any  large  rela 
tion  which  they  bear  to  my  story.  During 
that  time  I  learned  many  things,  some  of  the 
lessons  being  easy  and  some  being  very  hard. 
One  of  the  hardest  was  that  as  I  grew  older  I 
must  leave  behind  me  a  great  deal  of  what 
had  been  very  sweet  and  pure  and  pleasant. 
It  is  a  sad  thing  to  put  off  oneself, — to  grow 
away  regretfully  from  what  one  has  been.  I 
did  not  like  to  realize  that  innocent  child 
hood  was  dropping  away  from  me, — drop 
ping,  dropping,  dropping  each  day,  while  I 
looked  more  and  more  into  the  future.  Our 
tenure  of  life  is  after  all  so  fleeting,  so  mo 
mentary,  so  disproportioned  to  our  easy 
sense  of  the  security  of  living ! 

In  this  later  time,  Hale  used  often  to  sit 
with  me  under  the  trees,  talking  to  me  in  his 
gentle  way  of  many  things, — of  my  studies, 
and  of  plans  for  the  time  when  I  should  be  a 
man.  He  chose  that  way  to  give  me  courage 
for  hard  work.  But  one  day,  when  we  were 
together,  he  passed  little  by  little  from  words 
into  silence,  keeping  his  hand  upon  my  shoul 
der  with  an  affectionate  pressure,  then  at  last 
laying  it  upon  my  head  and  lifting  my  face 


Time  Passes  25 

so  that  he  might  look  into  my  eyes.  In  his 
own  eyes  I  saw  a  shadow ;  hovering  at  first, 
then  growing  persistent,  as  of  something 
coming,  not  yet  to  be  clearly  seen,  but  only 
guessed  at  by  the  shadow.  I  knew  that  he 
had  something  more  to  say ;  so  I  slipped  my 
small  hand  into  his  great  one,  and  waited. 

"Pokey,"  he  said  at  last,  quite  suddenly 
(he  always  called  me  by  the  name  which  the 
boys  had  given  me)  ;  "you  are  growing  to  be 
a  big  boy  now.  Pretty  soon  the  time  will 
come  when  you  must  go  away." 

Had  he  said  that  the  big  brick  house  must 
go  away;  that  the  rows  of  blue  children,  or 
the  trees  and  sky  must  go  away,  he  could  not 
have  startled  me  more.  I  could  only  stare  at 
him,  wondering.  He  held  my  hand,  stroking 
it  softly  while  he  talked. 

"I  have  meant  to  do  my  whole  duty  by  all 
the  children;  but  somehow  I  have  thought 
more  of  you  than  of  the  others,  because  I  feel 
for  you  a  great  love,  besides  my  regard  for 
duty."  He  paused  then  for  a  moment, — and  a 
very  painful  throbbing  pause  it  was  for  me, 
full  of  the  feeling  of  having  been  lost  some 
where  and  forgotten.  He  let  his  eyes  wander 
over  the  pleasant  yard,  with  its  summer 


26  Sons  of  Strength 

lights  and  shadows;  then  up  to  the  blue  sky 
showing  through  the  maples;  then  to  my 
troubled  face.  When  he  saw  how  troubled 
my  face  was,  and  how  full  of  dumb  wonder, 
he  stooped  and  kissed  me.  "A  part  of  my 
duty  is  to  find  homes  for  my  children,  when 
they  have  grown  to  your  age,  and  now  I 
must  find  a  home  for  you.  I  wish  that  I 
might  keep  you  myself,  dear;  but  my  own 
children  are  so  many,  and  I  fear  that  I  may 
not  stay  here  very  long  myself.  I  have 
grown  out  of  the  place.  I  do  not  think  as 
they  would  like  to  have  me  upon  some  great 
questions,  and  so  they  may  give  the  asylum 
to  another  man.  I  want  to  find  a  good  home 
for  you  before  I  go." 

During  all  this  time  he  had  been  stroking 
my  hair  from  my  forehead,  holding  me  close 
to  him,  as  though  to  reassure  me,  until  at 
last  I  could  bear  no  more ;  then  I  dropped  my 
face  into  his  lap,  and  began  to  cry  heart- 
brokenly.  He  let  me  cry  for  a  time,  while  he 
caressed  me;  then  he  raised  my  head  to  his 
shoulder  and  helped  me  to  clear  away  the 
tears. 

"There,"  he  said  quietly.  "Now  we  must 
be  men  together,  Pokey." 


Time  Passes  27 

As  I  looked  into  his  tender  face,  bending 
over  me,  there  came  upon  me  a  sudden  throb 
of  doubt  as  to  the  justice  of  my  judgment  of 
Blinky  Meade's  stories  about  his  angels.  Per 
haps — I  could  not  be  sure — perhaps  there 
were  angels  upon  earth,  after  all;  not  in 
shining  clothes  and  white  wings,  as  Blinky 
said,  but  broad-shouldered,  blue-eyed  and 
thick-bearded, — manly  angels.  Has  any  one 
ever  painted  such  an  angel  into  a  picture? 
Why  not  ?  I  should  like  to  know. 

"I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  yourself, 
dear,"  he  went  on  in  the  same  quiet  way. 
"When  you  are  a  man,  I  want  your  manhood 
to  be  strong  and  good.  There  will  be  mighty 
things  for  men  to  do  in  your  lifetime,  no 
doubt,  and  great  trials  to  be  gone  through. 
The  nation  must  surely  see  those  times,  be 
fore  it  sees  peace  again.  It  may  not  come 
while  I  live,  but  it  must  surely  come  one  day. 
It  is  to  be  a  question  of  men's  freedom, 
Pokey.  Do  you  know  what  that  means  ?" 

I  knew  only  in  part  what  he  meant,  and  so 
for  a  long  time  he  sat  with  me  in  that  peace 
ful  place,  talking  to  me  of  the  great  wrong 
of  human  slavery.  It  was  all  very  wonderful 
to  my  boyish  mind ;  I  could  not  fully  under- 


28  Sons  of  Strength 

stand,  though  he  did  his  best  to  have  me.  It 
is  so  hard  for  a  child  to  understand  wrong. 

"So  you  must  make  yourself  ready  to  take 
a  part  by  and  by,"  he  said  at  last.  "Be  a  good 
boy,  and  then  it  will  not  be  hard  or  strange 
for  you  to  be  a  good  man.  Don't  tell  a  lie.  I 
would  like  to  have  you  willing,  if  it  must  be, 
to  die  or  to  be  shamed  before  all  the  world, 
rather  than  to  tell  a  lie,  or  live  one."  A  very 
curious  thing  to  say  in  such  a  world,  at  such 
a  time,  to  a  boy  of  ten  years !  But  I  listened, 
rapt,  and  have  carried  his  lesson  in  my  inner 
heart,  always. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  MAN 

ONE  day,  not  very  long  after  that  talk 
with  Hale,  I  crept  away  with  my  books, 
longing  to  be  alone,  so  that  I  might  begin 
practicing  in  secret  the  things  that  Hale  had 
taught  me, — for  I  had  already  learned  how 
easy  and  pleasant  it  is  to  be  good  in  secret. 
While  I  lay  in  the  shadows,  reading,  I  heard 
Hale's  big  voice  calling:  "Pokey!  Pokey! 
Where's  Pokey  Upjack?"  Then  the  children 
upon  the  playground  took  up  the  cry,  in  shrill 
treble  chorus,  until  the  yard  was  full  of  it, 
and  I  came  from  my  hiding  place. 

Hale  stood  upon  the  wide  steps  leading  to 
the  front  door  of  the  asylum,  and  by  his  side 
was  another  man.  I  guessed  what  was  com 
ing;  and  so,  while  I  walked  slowly  toward 
them,  I  looked  with  deep  interest  at  the 
stranger. 

His  hair  was  heavy  and  long  upon  his 
shoulders,  and  snow-white;  but  the  snow 
seemed  to  have  fallen  out  of  due  season,  for 
29 


30  Sons  of  Strength 

his  face  was  ruddy,  like  a  young  man's,  and 
unwrinkled.  But  it  was  an  old  face,  after 
all;  for  when  I  looked  more  closely  I  saw 
that  all  the  lines  upon  it  were  softened,  as 
though  by  the  heat  of  manhood,  and  the  gray 
eyes  under  their  shaggy  brows  were  full  of 
that  sort  of  kindness  which  belongs  only  to 
age.  He  stood  very  straight  and  held  his 
shoulders  well  back.  He  was  not  large,  but 
when  he  was  younger  he  must  have  been 
strong;  there  was  strength  remaining  in  his 
walk  as  he  came  down  the  steps  to  meet  me. 

"Is  this  the  lad?"  he  asked  of  Hale;  and 
Hale  answered,  "Yes,  this  is  the  lad." 

The  old  man  laid  his  hand  upon  my  head 
and  looked  into  my  eyes  so  fixedly  and  long 
that  I  grew  a  little  abashed,  though  I  tried  to 
give  him  back  his  honest  glance. 

"Thee  looks  like  a  good  lad,"  he  said  qui 
etly.  "What  has  thee  in  thy  hands?"  I  told 
him:  "Books." 

"Books?"  he  said  after  me,  with  a  sober 
setting  of  the  lines  about  his  lips.  "And  both 
arms  full!  There  must  be  a  weary  lot  of 
them."  He  turned  me  around,  so  that  he 
might  better  see  how  many  there  were.  "A 
weary  lot  of  them,"  he  repeated.  "And  thee 


A  Man  31 

looks  like  a  good  lad.  Has  thee  a  Bible  with 
the  rest?"  Yes,  I  had  a  Bible. 

"And  does  thee  read  it?"  he  asked.  I  an 
swered  Yes  to  that  question  also. 

"And  does  thee  do  what  it  tells  thee  ?" 

"No,"  I  answered  honestly.  "I  like  to  read 
it ;  but  I  do  what  he  tells  me,"  and  I  pointed 
to  Hale.  The  old  man  laughed  softly. 

"Then  thee  is  a  good  lad !"  he  cried  heart 
ily.  He  stood  quite  still  for  a  time,  looking  at 
me  intently,  but  appearing  to  be  studying 
some  times  me  and  some  times  himself. 

"Tell  me  about  thyself,"  he  said  at  last, 
abruptly ;  and  encouraged  by  his  gentle  man 
ner,  I  told  him  all  I  knew  of  myself,  and  of 
the  simple  thoughts  and  purposes  that  had 
grown  up  in  me.  While  I  talked,  he  helped 
me  some  times  with  a  question,  so  that  I  kept 
nothing  back.  When  I  had  finished,  he  was 
thoughtful,  sitting  down  upon  one  of  the 
stone  steps,  so  that  he  might  think  quite  at 
his  leisure.  He  was  so  very  deep  in  it,  and 
his  eyes  seemed  to  be  so  far  away  that  I  al 
most  lost  hope  of  having  him  get  back  to  me ; 
but  at  last  he  looked  at  me. 

"I  once  had  a  lad  like  thee,"  he  said 
simply;  "a  good  lad,  and  one  who  loved 


32  Sons  of  Strength 

books."  Then  he  stopped  again,  as  though 
his  words  came  with  an  effort;  and  when  I 
looked  at  his  face  I  guessed  why  it  was  so; 
for  those  tell-tale  lines  by  his  mouth  were 
wavering  and  uncertain.  "My  lad  died, 
thirty  years  ago,"  he  went  on  very  gently; 
"but  I  have  seemed  to  see  him  again  to-day, 
in  thee.  Thee  must  come  home  with  me  and 
stop  with  us  a  bit,  so  that  we  may  get  to 
know  thee  better.  Would  thee  like  to  do 
that?" 

Before  I  answered,  I  glanced  at  Hale.  His 
eyes  were  glistening.  I  loved  him  very  much, 
and  could  not  bear  to  think  of  leaving  him. 

"You  would  better  go,  Pokey,"  he  said, 
though  he,  too,  seemed  to  speak  with  a 
strong  effort.  I  turned  once  more  to  the  old 
man,  bravely  trying  to  hide  my  tears,  think 
ing  that  tears  might  not  be  manly  enough  to 
please  him.  But  he  seemed  glad  to  see  me 
crying,  for  he  said  again  and  again:  "Thee 
is  a  good  lad — a  good  lad!"  And  so  it  was 
arranged  that  he  should  come  for  me  the 
next  day  and  take  me  to  his  home. 

I  do  not  like  to  think  of  that  day,  for  it  was 
one  of  the  hardest  though  one  of  the  kindest 
and  sweetest  of  my  life.  That  may  be  hard 


A  Man  33 

to  understand.  I  was  leaving  a  great  deal 
behind  me,  and  the  future  was  becoming  very 
big  and  real  and  near  at  hand.  I  hoped  that 
there  might  be  some  of  the  children  who 
would  be  sorry  because  of  my  going  away; 
but  they  did  not  show  any  sorrow ;  they  only 
looked  at  me  with  round  eyes,  when  they 
knew  of  my  fortune,  as  though  they  envied 
me.  Even  Blinky  Meade  fell  below  my 
hopes,  for  he  did  not  change  from  his  usual 
manner  of  solemn  indifference,  though  he 
spoke  frankly  to  me. 

"You're  going  to  lose  me,  Pokey,"  he  said, 
as  though  that  was  a  summing  up  of  all  pos 
sible  evil.  "What'll  you  do  when  you  don't 
have  me?"  But  never  a  word  of  his  own  re 
gret.  I  doubt  if  he  felt  regret.  I  remember 
that  when  I  realized  how  disappointed  I  was, 
I  prayed  after  a  new  fashion.  Theretofore 
my  prayers  had  been  nothing  more  than 
overflowings  of  happiness ;  now,  for  the  first 
time,  I  prayed  for  something  I  wanted, — 
strength.  And  while  I  prayed,  God  seemed 
to  smile  upon  me ;  but  it  was  a  strange  smile, 
— giving  a  half-promise  of  what  I  sought, 
yet  full  of  mysterious  meaning,  as  though 
He  would  have  said  to  me:  "All  right;  but 


34  Sons  of  Strength 

wait  a  while,  my  boy."  Before  that  time 
when  I  wanted  comfort  I  would  go  to  my 
books;  but  now  I  did  not  think  of  them  as 
able  to  help  me.  I  must  have  been  wiser  than 
I  knew.  Books  are  not  often  very  fecund 
with  the  sort  of  wisdom  which  is  of  use  when 
the  heart  is  beating  out  of  time. 

But  my  books  were  all  packed  up  with  the 
rest  of  my  things,  to  be  ready  when  the  old 
man  should  come.  He  came  about  the  mid 
dle  of  the  day,  riding  in  a  big  farm-wagon 
drawn  by  strong  horses,  and  my  few  belong 
ings  were  stowed  away  in  the  wagon,  while 
the  asylum  children  stood  around,  looking 
on.  But  none  of  them  cried.  When  I  was 
ready  to  go,  I  looked  at  Hale.  I  suppose  I 
did  not  appear  very  cheerful.  When  he  saw 
my  plight,  his  eyes  filled  with  tears  and  he 
lifted  me  in  his  strong  arms. 

"There,  there !"  he  said  softly.  "Keep  up  a 
good  heart,  my  dear  boy.  You  will  soon  be  a 
man,  and  I  shall  be  very  proud  of  you.  Try 
to  remember  what  I  have  told  you.  Be  truth 
ful  and  true,  and  everything  will  be  right 
with  you."  He  kissed  me  upon  the  lips,  and 
his  wife  hugged  me  to  her  gentle  breast. 
Then  I  got  into  my  seat  in  the  wagon  and 


A  Man  35 

was  driven  away,  while  over  me  there  came  a 
flood  of  visions  and  of  recollections; — 
strongest  of  all,  the  memory  of  the  day  of 
my  awakening,  years  before,  when  I  sat  by 
that  roadside,  watching  another  wagon  fad 
ing  out  of  sight,  and  longing  to  follow  it. 

It  is  good  that  children  have  large  reserve 
powers  of  being  happy; — that  while  they 
have  neither  the  strength  nor  the  wisdom  to 
shape  things  for  themselves,  they  can  turn 
adverse  circumstances  to  account  and  be 
happy  nevertheless.  That  ought  to  be  a  man's 
power,  rather  than  a  child's,  inasmuch  as 
men  are  supposed  to  get  wisdom  in  the 
course  of  their  growth  out  of  childhood.  But 
children  have  the  best  of  it,  despite  our 
philosophy  of  wisdom.  Except  we  become  as 
little  children,  we  are  forbidden  to  share  in 
the  kingdom  of  God, — whatever  that  may  be 
or  mean.  Perhaps  if  we  carried  something  of 
the  quality  of  childhood  into  our  years  of 
greater  wisdom,  we  should  find  the  kingdom 
of  God  nearer  at  hand  than  we  are  used  to 
think  it,  and  not  so  very  mystical  and  mythi 
cal  after  all. 

As  we  rode  along,  it  was  not  very  long  un 
til  I  lost  some  of  the  sharp  sorrow  of  parting, 


36  Sons  of  Strength 

and  began  to  wonder  what  might  be  in  store 
for  me  in  my  new  home.  I  cast  covert 
glances  at  the  old  man  now  and  again,  and 
at  last  I  caught  him  looking  sidewise  slyly  at 
me.  He  broke  into  a  warm  laugh,  very  good 
and  pleasant, — a  laugh  that  made  me  think 
of  a  broad  hillside  covered  with  waving  ripe 
wheat  lying  ready  in  the  sunshine  for  cut 
ting;  it  was  so  very  mellow,  and  so  full  of  a 
sweet  outdoor  sound. 

"Well,  well!"  he  said  gleefully;  "we  have 
run  each  other  down.  Now  we  must  like  one 
another.  I  shall  not  be  afraid  of  thee  any 
more,  and  thee  must  not  fear  me.  Fear  isn't 
so  nice  as  love;  does  thee  think  so?"  And 
after  that  I  did  not  have  much  trouble  in  lov 
ing  him. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  we 
reached  his  home;  but  when  we  drew  near, 
the  mere  sight  of  the  place  was  enough  to 
take  away  the  weariness  of  the  long  ride.  It 
was  a  large  farm-house,  standing  in  a  beauti 
ful  yard,  with  generous  fields  all  around  it. 
There  was  a  wide  verandah  in  front  of  the 
house,  covered  with  a  thick  web  of  vines,  and 
the  dooryard  was  gay  with  flowers.  It  was 
all  very  quiet  and  peaceful,  like  Sunday. 


A  Man  37 

The  old  man's  wife  (I  knew  at  once  that 
she  was  his  wife,  because  she  was  so  like  him 
self)  came  out  to  meet  us  when  the  wagon 
stopped  before  the  gate.  First  of  all,  the  old 
man  stooped  and  kissed  her ;  then  he  led  me 
to  her,  and  she  bent  down  to  kiss  me.  She 
had  a  serene  and  beautiful  face.  Her  eyes 
were  like  a  June  sky,  blue  and  deep — so  deep 
that  there  was  no  getting  to  the  bottom  of 
them.  No  mean  creature  ever  had  large, 
clear  straightforward  eyes,  placid  and  peace 
ful. 

They  took  me  into  their  home  and  gave  me 
a  part  of  it.  Those  two  were  all  that  made  up 
the  home,  excepting  some  young  and  strong 
men  and  women  who  worked  upon  the  farm. 
Every  one  seemed  happy,  as  though  life  was 
well  worth  while.  It  is  not  easy  to  be  brief 
in  telling  of  such  pleasant  things ;  but  I  must 
say  at  once  and  abruptly  that  those  gentle 
Quakers  loved  me  and  were  good  to  me, 
while  I  grew  to  manhood. 

Does  one  know  when  he  first  becomes  a 
unan?  I  used  to  wonder  about  that,  as  the 
years  passed.  I  grew  to  be  very  big  and 
strong,  with  much  breadth  of  shoulders,  and 
sturdy  legs  under  me,  and  I  was  able  to  do  a 


387*826 


38  Sons  of  Strength 

man's  work  while  my  understanding  was  still 
boyish.  Like  most  men,  I  had  a  certain  pride 
of  size  and  of  vigour  of  bone  and  muscle. 
When  I  was  eighteen,  there  was  none  of  the 
farm-hands  who  could  put  me  upon  my  back 
in  wrestling.  But  when  I  thought  about  it 
quietly,  meaning  to  be  honest  with  myself,  I 
knew  that  I  was  not  yet  a  man,  and  I  longed 
for  the  time  to  come  when  I  should  be  able  to 
prove  myself.  A  man's  strength,  whether  it 
be  of  muscle  or  of  brain,  is  of  little  value  to 
him  until  it  is  proved.  The  peaceful  life  upon 
the  farm,  with  rain  and  sunshine  and  change 
of  seasons,  seemed  to  be  of  small  service  to 
me,  except  as  it  was  putting  health  into  me 
against  the  time  of  need.  The  time  had  been 
when  I  regretted  the  fading  of  childhood ; 
now  I  wished  to  take  leave  of  it  altogether. 

But  it  was  good  to  wait,  after  all ;  for  the 
years  of  waiting  were  full  of  many  things, — 
things  not  all  to  be  told  of,  but  all  going  to 
make  up  the  sum  of  manhood.  Many  good 
influences  had  been  slowly  taken  into  solution 
in  my  character,  and  in  the  later  time,  as  the 
volatile  spirit  of  youth  began  to  evaporate, 
those  good  influences  crystalized  into  the 
firm  resolve  to  honour  my  godly  teachers  by 


A  Man  39 

being  a  good  man.  And  then  it  was,  no 
doubt,  that  real  manhood  laid  hold  upon  me. 
Conscious  effort  toward  goodness  is  not  a 
thing  which  pertains  to  childhood.  When 
such  conscious  effort  begins  to  ferment  in  the 
heart,  one  may  know  that  he  has  passed  that 
hard-to-be-defined  boundary, — that  he  has 
stepped  aside  from  the  dewy  by-paths  of 
childhood,  and  is  out  at  last  upon  the  dusty 
highway. 

As  the  years  ran  on,  peacefully,  happily, 
as  I  have  told,  mighty  things  were  stirring 
the  nation's  blood,  making  its  great  heart 
beat  to  a  strange  new  measure.  At  last,  when 
I  was  near  to  my  majority — as  nearly  as  I 
could  guess  my  age — there  was  high  flood  of 
excitement  in  our  quiet  neighbourhood,  and 
in  every  quiet  home.  The  news  had  come — 
the  very  air  was  electrically  charged  with  it 
— that  Congress  was  in  labour  with  a  fateful 
birth.  Politics  had  indeed  made  strange  bed 
fellows.  This  political  love-child  was  to  be 
christened  Squatter  Sovereignty,  and  was  to 
have  for  its  playground  a  part  of  the  vast 
prairies  of  the  West.  There  could  be  no 
doubt  that  it  would  become  a  lusty  child ;  cer 
tainly  its  care  would  prove  troublesome. 


40  Sons  of  Strength 

There  were  those  who  hoped  and  prayed  that 
it  might  die  in  the  throes  of  birth ;  but  it  was 
hope  devoid  of  reason,  and  prayer  devoid  of 
faith.  The  political  midwives  were  ac 
counted  skillful ;  there  was  very  little  uncer 
tainty  as  to  the  outcome.  Meanwhile,  those 
who  listened  for  the  infant's  first  cry  of  life 
were  setting  their  lips  grimly. 

Adams,  my  good  old  Quaker,  divided  his 
speech  between  laments  over  the  weakness  of 
the  nation's  counsellors,  and  laments  over  his 
own  growing  weakness  of  eye  and  limb. 

"What  does  thee  think,  lad?"  he  once 
asked  of  me,  his  eager  old  voice  trembling; 
"are  we  only  a  race  of  political  weaklings  ? 
Have  we  no  more  heroes  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  I  told  him,  with  the  feeling 
strong  upon  me  that  I  spoke  the  truth, — 
though  prophecy  is  always  a  dangerous  busi 
ness.  "Times  of  trial  always  make  heroes. 
Why  should  this  time  fail  ?" 

He  bent  his  head  upon  his  arm,  and  re 
mained  silent  for  a  long  time. 

"God  send  it  may  be  so !"  he  cried  at  last. 
"I  wish  it  had  pleased  Him  to  let  me  keep  a 
man's  strength  of  body,  while  I  keep  a  man's 
will  and  purpose !"  He  got  upon  his  feet,  and 


A  Man  41 

every  line  upon  his  strong  face  was  drawn 
tense.  But  in  a  moment  he  sank  back  into  his 
seat,  and  his  age  seemed  to  rest  upon  him 
with  a  great  weight.  "I  have  passed  the  time 
of  vigour,  and  shall  have  to  sit  still  here  at 
home  and  look  on  at  others  acting  the  part  of 
men!"  He  was  not  used  to  talking  in  that 
way;  but  since  I  have  grown  old,  I  know 
what  he  felt,  and  how  cruelly  hard  a  thing  it 
was  that  had  fallen  upon  him.  By  and  by  he 
arose  and  came  close  to  me,  resting  his 
hands  upon  my  shoulders,  while  his  dimmed 
eyes  glowed  and  blazed  as  a  dying  fire  will 
flame  fitfully  through  its  wreathing  smoke 
and  gathering  ash. 

"I  am  not  going  to  be  disappointed  in  thee, 
am  I,  Pokey?"  he  asked.  I  was  glad  from  the 
depths  of  my  heart  that  I  could  look  without 
flinching  into  his  earnest  eyes. 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  want  me  to  go  to 
Kansas  ?"  I  asked. 

"Thee  must  go,  lad,  if  the  territory  is 
opened.  And  thee  must  be  strong  enough 
for  two,  because  I  am  only  an  old  man — an 
old  man."  He  said  it  over  and  over  again,  as 
though  he  thought  it  a  reproach  rather  than 
an  honour.  "Thee  must  go !"  he  repeated. 


42  Sons  of  Strength 

"Yes,"  I  said;  "yes,  I  will  go.  Surely,  I 
will  go."  The  old  man,  in  his  eager  delight, 
kissed  me  upon  the  cheek,  as  he  might  have 
kissed  a  child  that  had  pleased  him. 

"I  am  not  so  hopeless  any  more  about  he 
roes,"  he  said,  and  his  look  was  very  sweet 
and  pleasant.  But  my  promise  had  been  made 
willingly ;  yes,  more  than  willingly,  for  I  was 
full  of  a  new-born  passionate  desire  to  have 
a  part  in  manly  striTe.  And  here  was  to  be 
the  chance,  made  ready  to  my  hand.  I  was 
longing  to  practice  the  things  that  had  been 
taught  me, — to  practice  them  not  in  secret, 
but  openly  and  in  the  sight  of  men. 

"Thee  does  not  need  to  be  warned  of  what 
thy  going  may  mean,"  Adams  said  after  a 
thoughtful  pause.  "There  will  be  great  hard 
ship  to  be  borne,  no  doubt,  as  men  look  upon 
hardship.  But  the  mark  of  the  real  hero — 
and  I  hope  that  time  may  show  the  mark 
upon  thee — is  that  he  does  not  think  of  the 
hardness  of  things  when  he  is  undergoing 
them,  but  thinks  only  of  the  glory  of  the  out 
come."  He  was  walking  back  and  forth  as 
he  talked ;  and  he  talked  as  though  all  his  life 
was  being  summed  up  in  what  he  said, 
though  his  words  were  so  few.  "It  would  be 


A  Man  43 

a  glorious  thing,  my  dear  lad,  if  the  spread  of 
human  slavery  might  be  cut  off  from  new 
soil.  And  thee  will  find  others  there  like  thy 
self,  to  bear  good  company.  To  bear  com 
pany  to  such  a  cause  would  be  almost  like 
bearing  company  to  God.  Oh,  I  wish  I  might 
go!"  It  was  very  strange  to  hear  from  his 
lips  words  which  had  in  them  anything  like 
a  flavour  of  discontent  or  rebellion.  "Maybe  I 
do  wrong  to  get  so  impatient,"  he  said,  with 
quick  return  to  his  usual  placid  temper ;  "but 
a  man  who  has  been  strong  does  not  easily 
grow  reconciled  to  weakness  and  infirmity. 
But  there !  Thee  must  play  the  man  for  both 
of  us!" 

With  all  my  soul  I  resolved  to  live  up  to  all 
I  knew  of  manhood. 


CHAPTER  V 

OFF  FOR  KANSAS 

THE  days  passed  swiftly,  when  a  definite 
purpose  had  been  injected  into  them.  We 
waited  impatiently  for  the  news,  which  we 
knew  must  come,  that  Kansas  had  been 
thrown  open  for  settlement, — for  settlement 
and  war.  We  were  all  full  of  courage,  and 
this  was  not  at  all  abated  when  we  learned, 
little  by  little,  what  we  might  have  to  meet  in 
our  new  home.  It  is  but  natural  for  a  man 
to  long  to  measure  his  integrity  and  fortitude 
not  alone  by  wordy  boasting,  but  by  the 
stress  of  large  events. 

The  springtime  of  1854  had  been  full  of 
goodly  promise  upon  our  Illinois  prairies, — 
strong  and  lusty,  so  that  every  living  thing 
seemed  to  be  full  of  vigour,  and  trying  to  do 
its  best.  Life  out  of  doors  was  very  sweet, 
with  muscles  straining  at  the  plow,  while 
hearts  beat  time  to  the  movement  of  mighty 
thoughts.  Thus  spring  ripened,  and  the 
44 


Off  for  Kansas  45 

prairies  were  gorgeously  alight  with  the 
prophecy  of  summer. 

Upon  the  first  day  of  June,  while  we  sat 
at  our  noon-time  dinner,  our  hearty  appe 
tites  were  suddenly  abated  by  a  shout  from  a 
horseman  who  had  drawn  rein  at  our  gate. 

"Come  out  here!"  he  called  and  we  saw 
that  he  waved  a  newspaper  over  his  head.  I 
was  at  the  gate  in  a  moment,  so  eager  that  I 
let  Adams  follow  as  best  he  might. 

"President  Pierce  has  signed  the  bill !"  the 
rider  cried.  "May  3Oth, — yesterday.  Here  it 
is;  read  it!" 

He  thrust  the  paper  into  my  hand.  The 
words  were  black  at  the  tops  of  the  columns. 
The  news  was  very  simple  and  plain,  yet 
throbbing-full  of  portentous  meaning. 

"So  it  is  law,"  Adams  said  quietly,  as  he 
came  up  and  looked  over  my  shoulder.  His 
seventy-three  years  appeared  to  be  not  so 
great  a  weight  after  all,  just  then,  and  his 
eyes  were  glorious. 

"There's  to  be  a  meeting  in  town  to 
night,"  the  horseman  said.  "Come  in.  There's 
emigration  news  from  Boston,  too — great 
news.  They're  on  fire  back  there.  And  say ! 
A  lot  of  fat-heads  went  to  work  and  tolled 


46  Sons  of  Strength 

the  bells  on  the  churches  in  town  last  night ; 
— said  freedom's  dead,  you  know!  I  think 
they're  in  too  damned  big  a  hurry  with  the 
funeral.  We  aren't  a  lot  of  boys,  are  we,  up 
north  here  ?  No,  sir !  We'll  fight,  won't  we  ? 
I  reckon  so !  Just  give  us  a  chance.  What ! 
Well,  I'm  going  on  to  stir  up  some  more  of 
you  farmers.  You  be  sure  to  come  in,  you 
two.  We  want  every  man  about  here  to  come 
in  and  speak  his  mind."  He  struck  his  horse 
upon  the  flank  with  a  switch  he  carried,  but 
before  the  beast  could  get  away,  the  rider  had 
drawn  rein  again.  He  was  an  excited  man. 

"Say!"  he  cried;  "this  means  war,  don't 
you  know  it  ?" 

"War?"  Adams  repeated  sadly.  "War? 
Does  thee  think  so,  friend?  Does  thee 
really  think  so  ?" 

"It  certainly  does,"  the  other  man  an 
swered.  "Mark  what  I  tell  you ;  Kansas  will 
be  only  the  beginning.  No  matter  who  gets 
the  worst  of  it  out  there,  the  other  side  won't 
quit,  will  it?  Right  or  wrong — don't  make 
any  difference ;  Americans  don't  quit  for  one 
licking." 

Adams  was  giving  no  heed  to  this  noisy 


Off  for  Kansas  47 

speech.  I  could  read  in  his  eyes  that  his 
thoughts  were  very  far  away. 

"And  you  mind  this,  too,"  our  visitor  said : 
"we're  going  to  get  the  worst  of  it  for  a 
while,  sure.  The  f  ramers  of  the  damned  bill 
have  taken  care  of  that.  Missouri's  right 
across  the  river,  ain't  it?  What'll  they  be 
doing  in  Missouri ?  What  are  they  there  for? 
Of  course  we'll  get  licked.  But  we'll  stay 
with  'em,  won't  we?  Sure !" 

He  seemed  to  make  light  of  all  this.  He 
spoke  as  though  he  was  relishing  a  good  joke 
which  carried  a  laugh  with  it.  It  is  an 
American  way.  "Well,  good-by,  boys.  I 
can't  stay  here  always ;  I'm  after  the  rest  of 
to-night's  crowd."  And  this  time  he  was  off, 
his  horse  striking  into  a  quick  nervous  gait, 
as  though  it  felt  something  of  the  man's  ex 
citement. 

I  would  have  given  Adams  my  arm  to 
lean  upon,  as  had  been  my  habit  of  late,  since 
he  had  become  so  enfeebled  in  limb;  but  he 
did  not  heed  the  offer;  he  had  suddenly 
grown  very  erect  and  firm,  and  he  carried  his 
cane  as  though  it  was  a  plaything,  rather 
than  an  aid  to  infirm  steps. 


48  Sons  of  Strength 

"We  shan't  lack  excitement  in  Kansas; 
does  thee  think  so?"  he  asked. 

I  looked  at  him,  smiling.  "We?"  I  sug 
gested. 

"We!"  he  said  after  me,  with  hearty  em 
phasis.  "Oh,  I'm  going,  boy.  Does  thee 
think  I  could  stay  at  home?  Then  thee 
doesn't  know  me." 

But  I  knew  him  better  than  he  thought ;  I 
knew  him  far  too  well  to  make  remonstrance. 

"There  must  be  old  heads,  as  well  as  young 
arms,"  he  said.  "Old  heads  know  best  how 
to  keep  peace.  We  do  not  want  warfare ;  for 
wars  lead  nowhere  save  to  peace  at  last.  We 
would  better  reach  peace  at  the  beginning. 
God's  ways  are  ways  of  peace.  But  young 
men  like  thee  will  be  hard  to  hold  in  check, 
once  their  warm  blood  is  stirred ;  doesn't  thee 
think  so?" 

I  laughed  a  little  shamefacedly,  knowing 
that  he  spoke  the  truth.  "I  should  like  to 
make  all  men  keep  peace,  even  if  it  is  neces 
sary  to  resort  to  war  as  a  means  of  doing  it." 

The  meeting  in  the  town  was  like  all 
American  public  meetings.  I  have  never  seen 
one  which  differed  greatly  from  all  the  oth 
ers.  It  was  very  noisy,  very  strong-scented, 


Off  for  Kansas  49 

and  very  little  devoted  to  any  definite  pur 
pose,  so  far  as  surface  indications  showed, 
unless  that  purpose  might  be  to  work  itself 
into  a  frothy  frenzy.  Parts  of  the  newspa 
pers  were  read  aloud.  They  were  full  of  sad 
news  from  the  nation's  capital, — sad  because 
heavy  with  the  unspoken  threat  that  freedom 
was  now  a  vagabond  in  the  land,  and  must 
take  care  of  itself.  But  there  was  other  and 
more  hopeful  news  from  far  New  England, 
whence,  when  all  is  said,  the  nation  has 
drawn  most  of  its  strength,  and  most  of  the 
things  worth  loving  and  fighting  for.  New 
England  was  not  talking  alone  of  moral  sup 
port.  Moral  support  was  cheap  and  plenti 
ful.  We  should  need  men,  money  and  means 
for  holding  our  own  upon  the  prairies;  and 
those  things  the  news  from  Boston  promised. 
But  in  our  meeting  there  was  a  deep  un 
dercurrent,  beneath  the  breath-blown  sur 
face;  there  is  always  an  undercurrent  in 
the  hearts  of  our  people,  though  it  is  often 
hard  to  be  seen  through  the  foam  of  light 
levity  or  lighter  boasting.  It  is  always  pres 
ent,  setting  onward  surely,  strongly,  and  any 
cause  large  enough  to  reach  down  to  it  is 
floated  in  safety.  Therein  lies  our  salvation. 


50  Sons  of  Strength 

While  the  meeting-place  was  tumultuous 
with  the  general  clamour,  little  groups  of 
men  separated  themselves  from  the  rest  and 
stood  in  corners  or  in  hallways,  talking  in  so 
ber  undertones.  Among  them  were  to  be 
found  those  who  were  going  to  Kansas. 
They  were  not  noisy,  nor  wordy,  nor  vain 
glorious;  they  had  passed  far  beyond  that 
point. 

Patience !  What  a  word  that  is !  This  na 
tion  has  few  interpreters  of  its  grim  mean 
ing,  as  others  read  it.  We  are  not  long  suf 
fering  in  idleness,  when  there  is  work  to  be 
done,  once  we  have  made  up  our  minds  that 
we  are  the  chosen  workers.  We  can  endure, 
but  we  cannot  patiently  wait.  When  we  have 
made  choice  of  our  paths,  we  are  eager  to 
tread  them ;  even  though  they  lead  to  death, 
we  are  impatient  to  die.  So  it  was  with  those 
of  our  neighbourhood  whose  thoughts  had 
been  turned  westward.  For  the  most  part  we 
were  poor  men,  and  we  wished  to  leave  our 
loved  ones  in  comfort.  There  was  no  means 
for  doing  that,  save  by  attending  to  our 
fields;  so  our  fields  claimed  us  far  into  the 
summer,  until  we  knew  that  we  should  not  be 
among  the  first  of  those  to  reach  the  new  ter- 


Off  for  Kansas  51 

ritory ;  but  we  hoped  that  there  might  not  be 
need  of  us  in  the  meantime.  That  hope  was 
our  largest  comfort,  as  our  constant  toil  was 
our  greatest  relief  from  the  sharp  discomfort 
of  seeing  others  soon  passing  westward  on 
their  way  to  Kansas. 

Through  the  years  that  had  passed  since  I 
left  the  asylum,  I  had  heard  from  Hale  very 
often.  Politics,  the  cradle  of  so  much 
wrong,  had  forced  him  to  leave  his  charge, 
to  whose  care  he  had  given  the  best  of  his 
life;  but  he  wrote  to  me,  and  I  to  him.  He 
was  always  hopeful;  such  men  never  lose 
hopefulness.  He  had  made  a  quiet  home  for 
himself  in  Iowa,  where  he  might  grow  old  in 
peace  and  independence.  Those  times  were 
full  of  forebodings  for  those  who  loved  up 
rightness.  I  knew  that  Hale  had  suffered 
keenly. 

Of  Blinky  Meade  I  knew  nothing  in  those 
later  years.  He  had  left  the  asylum  soon 
after  my  own  departure.  He  sent  me  one  or 
two  strange  letters, — letters  altogether  like 
himself,  full  of  unsubstantial  visions,  and 
full  of  the  calm  assurance  of  selfishness. 
That  was  long  ago,  however ;  I  had  not  heard 
of  him  for  many  years.  But  my  thoughts 


52  Sons  of  Strength 

would  turn  to  him  very  often,  when  they  had 
time  to  stray  from  daily  duty.  I  wondered 
what  had  become  of  him, — wondered 
whether  he  was  alive,  and  what  part  he 
would  take  in  this  new  world's  drama. 

I  wished  Hale  to  know  of  my  purpose, 
when  once  it  was  formed,  and  I  set  about 
writing  to  him.  I  could  think  of  no  better 
way  of  spending  the  heavy  night  hours.  It 
was  to  be  a  long  letter,  and  the  leisure  of  sev 
eral  nights  had  been  spent  upon  it,  when  one 
day  a  letter  came  to  me : 

"My  DEAR  BOY  : 

"This  is  written  to  send  you  a  brief  good- 
by.  We  start  for  Kansas  to-morrow.  I  fear 
that  there  may  be  little  time  for  writing  from 
the  new  home,  but  our  hearts  are  with  you  al 
ways.  We  hope  that  you  may  do  your  part. 
Has  not  the  time  come?  JOHN  HALE/' 

That  was  all.  But  it  was  quite  enough. 
When  I  had  read  the  letter,  my  daily  round 
of  prosaic  life  became  very  unreal  and 
dreamlike,  as  life  will  appear  to  a  man  when 
his  thoughts  are  elsewhere.  But  I  read  duty 
in  each  day's  labour; — duty  to  those  who 
loved  me  nobly,  who  had  made  me  what  I 
was,  and  whom  I  loved  with  an  immeasura- 


Off  for  Kansas 


53 


ble  devotion.  No  one  can  understand  the 
stress  of  such  thoughts  until  he  has  himself 
felt  them  swelling  in  his  soul. 

I  am  not  equal  to  the  telling  of  what  came 
next;  but  it  must  be  told  in  some  fashion. 
The  fervour  of  excitement  had  aroused 
Adams  from  his  placid  unruffled  age,  until 
his  soul  was  ablaze.  There  is  no  eagerness  so 
pathetic  as  that  of  an  old  man  when  he  longs 
to  do  the  things  of  youth  and  strength,  and 
knows  all  too  clearly  that  he  cannot.  The 
fire  which  kindled  in  Adams  was  but  the 
afterglow  of  his  manhood,  and  he  under 
stood  that  perfectly. 

"Pokey,  Pokey!"  he  would  cry  to  me. 
"Thee  must  indeed  be  strong  for  two.  I  am 
going  away,  but  not  to  Kansas.  Perhaps  it  is 
best,  for  I  doubt  that  I  am  fit  to  be  the  Lord's 
servant  in  this  work.  God  grant  I  may  be 
willing  to  abide  by  what  He  sends,  though 
it  is  hard  upon  me."  But  his  thoughts  were 
not  all  of  himself.  Though  his  time  for 
thought  was  now  much  foreshortened,  he 
thought  of  us  all.  "Thee  has  been  like  a  son 
to  me,  lad,  and  now  thee  is  a  man.  I  wish  I 
might  live  to  see  thee  begin  thy  man's  work. 
God's  will,  God's  will!" 


54  Sons  of  Strength 

And  so  from  day  to  day  we  saw  him  grow 
ing  weaker  and  weaker,  until  at  last  he  died, 
while  his  aged  wife  sat  by  his  side,  and  his 
head  lay  upon  my  shoulder.  It  was  a  quiet 
death,  and  beautiful  to  see.  If  hopeful  life 
be  one  of  God's  blessings,  what  shall  we  say 
of  such  a  death  ? 

When  we  had  buried  him  upon  one  of  the 
fair  hillsides  there  at  home,  and  there  was 
but  one  left  for  me  to  love,  the  detaining 
strength  of  that  love  was  multiplied  many 
times.  I  could  not  go  away,  though  the 
passing  months  brought  urgent  calls.  Ill- 
omened  things  were  happening  in  Kansas. 
Early  prophecies  of  those  who  doubted  our 
national  integrity  were  seeming  to  find  large 
fulfillment.  The  pioneers  were  beset  by 
stronger  evils  than  their  fears  had  created; 
for  they  had  feared  unorganized  lawless 
ness  and  violence,  while  their  enemies  were 
in  fact  controlled  and  organized  by  able 
leaders,  whose  every  thought  and  act  was 
embittered  with  hatred.  They  asked  no  ques 
tions  of  the  proprieties.  They  had  resorted 
to  any  means  which  promised  effectiveness 
in  dealing  with  the  matters  in  hand.  Popu 
lar  elections  in  Kansas  had  been  turned  into 


Off  for  Kansas  5$ 

grim  burlesques  by  invading  hordes  of  armed 
men ;  the  government  of  the  territory  was  in 
the  hands  of  those  who  had  effected  its  open 
ing  for  settlement, — just  as  had  been  in 
tended  from  the  beginning.  Theirs  was  not 
a  pacific  policy,  but  one  of  terrorizing, — al 
ways  a  favorite  policy  of  the  short-sighted. 
Force  of  numbers  had  given  the  invaders  a 
semblance  of  success  for  the  time  being;  but 
the  future  was  something  over  which  the 
thoughtful  were  puckering  their  brows, 
doubtful  whether  its  problems  were  to  be 
solved  save  by  opposing  force.  The  crime  of 
murder  had  reddened  the  black  page.  Peace 
ful  settlers  who  had  resisted  usurped  au 
thority  had  suffered  death;  settlers  not  so 
mild-hearted  had  themselves  resorted  to  kill 
ing.  No  one  could  see  the  end;  all  awaited 
the  inevitable  crash  of  final  conflict. 

In  the  spring  of  the  new  year,  Adams'  old 
wife  went  to  seek  him  in  that  far  country, 
where  she  too  might  be  made  acquainted 
with  God's  ways,  which  are  indeed  ways  of 
peace.  Who  can  doubt  that  a  life  of  godli 
ness  is  well  worth  while,  if  its  end  comes  at 
last  with  such  ineffable  sweetness  and  se 
renity?  I  had  few  tears  toi  the  departure  of 


56  Sons  of  Strength 

my  well-beloved  friend,  for  whom  death  was 
the  crowning  glory  of  life. 

I  remained  at  home  for  only  the  little  time 
that  was  needed  to  straighten  the  simple 
worldly  affairs  of  those  good  souls;  then  I 
was  ready  to  face  destiny,  hopeful  that  it 
might  be  measured  to  my  impetuous  desires 
for  vigorous  action.  I  joined  the  first  party 
which  went  westward  through  our  neigh 
bourhood. 

There  were  three  wagons  and  six  men  in 
our  party,  the  men  all  young  and  strong,  and 
all  rich  in  that  delicious  inexperience  which 
makes  youth  so  sweet.  We  gave  sufferance 
to  no  thought  save  that  things  must  turn  out 
well  by  and  by.  We  could  only  guess  what 
would  come  in  the  meantime,  and  foreboding 
of  ill  is  not  a  trick  in  which  young  men  are 
skillful.  Perhaps  we  were  a  little  dismayed 
and  afraid  some  times;  but  the  fear  came 
only  in  brief  flashes,  like  those  from  a  hover 
ing  storm-cloud,  while  our  courage  was  like 
sunshine.  Our  wagons  were  loaded  with  the 
tools  of  peaceful  pioneering,  and  with  some 
other  tools  which  did  not  go  so  well  with  the 
thought  of  peace.  We  were  well  provided 


Off  for  Kansas  57 

with  all  things  that  we  were  likely  to  need  in 
making  our  way  in  a  new  country. 

The  journey  was  all  too  slow,  for  we  were 
heavily  laden.  Through  the  long  August 
days  we  plodded  onward  upon  the  summer- 
clad  roads,  and  at  night  we  slept  upon  the 
ground,  beneath  the  broad  summer  sky.  On 
ward,  onward;  each  day  onward,  while  we 
gathered  health  and  strength,  will  and  forti 
tude,  knowing  that  we  were  likely  to  need  all, 
and  longing  for  the  time  to  come  when  we 
might  begin  using  them. 


CHAPTER  VI 

ELIZABETH 

AFTER  a  few  days  we  were  joined  by  two 
other  wagons  which  came  into  our  road  from 
the  north,  and  we  all  went  on  together.  The 
strangers  were  from  Ohio,  where  some  good 
men  have  been  born.  The  days  passed  more 
quickly  when  they  were  with  us ;  and  I  found 
them  passing  pleasantly,  too.  I  do  not  quite 
know  how  to  tell  about  it,  except  in  a  very 
plain  way. 

There  were  four  of  the  newcomers,  two 
men  and  two  women.  Of  the  women,  one 
had  settled  into  the  rigid  composure  of  mid 
dle  age,  taking  things  as  they  came,  without 
either  enthusiasm  or  complaining.  She  was 
the  wife  of  one  of  the  men,  and  a  good  wife, 
no  doubt.  If  shewas  a  little  too  stolid  for  my 
liking,  she  was  also  solid  and  substantial, — 
one  of  those  strong  creatures  upon  whom  the 
heaviest  burdens  rest  lightly.  But  my 
thoughts  were  not  very  much  concerned 
about  her;  they  were  busy  with  dwelling 


Elizabeth  §y 

upon  the  other  woman,  who  was  of  about  my 
own  age.  I  am  quite  hopeless  of  being  able  to 
write  what  I  saw  in  her  and  thought  about 
her. 

She  was  light  and  slender  of  body,  but  so 
lithe  that  no  one  would  have  thought  her 
wanting  in  agile  strength,  save  that  she 
lacked  the  ruddy  hue  which  marks  the  more 
robust.  Her  hair  was  glorious, — massive, 
and  full  of  bright  living  lights;  and,  though 
it  was  worn  in  a  demure  fashion,  it  seemed 
rebellious  of  confinement,  and  to  be  strug 
gling  for  a  freedom  of  its  own  in  the  pure 
summer  air ;  so  that  there  were  always  light 
strands  of  it  flying  about  her  ears,  or  blown 
across  her  cheeks.  She  had  a  good  clear 
face,  which  was  moulded  into  strong  lines, 
each  full  of  virile  character,  and  there  seemed 
to  be  no  room  for  those  lighter  and  more 
fleeting  dimples  and  shadows  without  which 
few  women's  faces  are  beautiful.  But  as 
I  looked  at  her  furtively  now  and  again,  and 
as  I  dwelt  upon  those  glimpses  in  the  inter 
vals,  I  became  satisfied  that  she  was  very 
beautiful,  though  it  was  not  easy  to  say 
wherein  her  beauty  lay. 

Sometimes  she  would  leave  her  seat  in  the 


60  Sons  of  Strength 

wagon  and  walk  by  the  roadside,  as  though 
she  enjoyed  it,  and  found  such  activity  a 
greater  luxury  than  sitting  still.  At  such 
times  I  found  myself  growing  restive,  too; 
and  on  the  second  day  I  left  my  wagon  and 
walked  by  her  side.  There  was  such  commu 
nity  of  interest  in  our  party  that  my  meeting 
with  her  was  free  from  any  constraint.  When 
I  drew  near  to  her,  she  looked  at  me  with  per 
fect  frankness,  and  then  I  knew  at  once  why 
I  thought  her  beautiful ;  it  was  because  of  her 
eyes.  They  were  large  clear  eyes,  blue  and 
pure,  and  deep  enough  to  hold  every  human 
passion,— gentle  sympathy  and  kindness  and 
love, — yes,  and  just  hatred,  too,  no  doubt,  if 
the  turn  of  events  might  arouse  it. 

"We  shall  be  many  days  together,"  I  said 
for  introduction.  "We  ought  to  know  each 
other's  name,  even  if  we  know  no  more.  My 
name  is  Pokey  Upjack." 

By  the  mention  of  my  name  to  a  stranger, 
I  was  always  able  to  conjure  a  smile.  Though 
the  girl's  lips  were  controlled,  I  saw  the  smile 
dancing  in  her  eyes. 

"My  name  is  Elizabeth  Archibald,"  she 
told  me  simply,  and  the  music  of  the  soft  syl 
lables  and  of  her  calm  voice  gave  me  one  of 


Elizabeth  6 1 

those  indefinable  thrills  of  pleasure  and  satis 
faction.  I  thought  of  my  own  name  as  being 
very  rude  and  coarsely  made. 

"I  have  been  wondering  to  see  women  un 
dertaking  such  a  journey,"  I  said.  "I  am 
afraid  that  Kansas  will  not  be  a  place  for 
women  just  yet." 

It  was  not  what  I  should  have  said,  as  I 
saw  at  once ;  for  the  smile  sank  back  into  the 
depths  of  her  eyes,  and  they  showed  instead  a 
discomforting  glow  of  defiant  light. 

"Why  not?"  she  asked. 

"It  will  be  a  hard  life,  with  very  little  com 
fort  in  it.  It  is  to  be  a  life  of  endurance,  not 
one  of  enjoyment." 

"Comforts !"  she  repeated ;  and  the  tone  of 
her  voice  was  changed,  too,  while  the  glow  of 
defiance  was  kindling  into  a  flame.  "Are  you 
one  of  those  who  think  of  a  woman  as  at 
her  best  when  she  is  nurtured  upon  com 
forts?" 

"Well,  yes,"  I  answered  honestly  enough ; 
for  that  was  really  all  I  then  knew  of  women. 
"I  mean  I  don't  like  to  think  of  a  woman's 
being  subjected  to  hardship." 

"Why  are  you  going  to  Kansas?"   she 


62  Sons  of  Strength 

asked.  "Is  it  for  the  purely  selfish  enjoyment 
of  a  little  hardship?" 

"Selfish  enjoyment?"  I  had  to  ask  in  my 
turn.  "No,  of  course  not.  It  will  be  a  hard 
part  we  shall  have  to  act  in  Kansas ;  but  that 
is  a  man's  duty,  and  a  man's  right." 

"And  a  man's  pleasure,  too,"  she  said; 
"isn't  that  so?" 

"Yes,  and  pleasure,  too,"  I  confessed. 
"But  it  is  a  pleasure  above  the  deeds  them 
selves.  It  is  not  the  brute  joy  of  fighting,  but 
the  joy  of  fighting  for  a  just  end." 

"Ah !"  she  breathed  softly.  "Then  the  joy 
of  doing  justice,  and  the  joys  of  heroism 
are  to  be  denied  to  women  ?" 

With  the  girls  back  at  home  I  had  been 
used  to  talk,  when  the  chance  offered,  of  the 
beauties  of  light  and  shadow  upon  the  rolling 
hills,  or  of  the  softness  of  the  starlight. 
Dimly  I  wished  that  I  had  spoken  of  those 
things  to  this  girl. 

"No,"  I  said ;  "I  would  deny  to  a  woman 
nothing  that  she  is  able  to  do  or  to  enjoy.  I 
doubt  that  a  woman's  strength  will  be  equal 
to  what  is  before  us.  It  is  not  alone  a  ques 
tion  of  impulse  or  conviction.  By  and  by  the 
intoxication  of  fervid  impulse  will  be  gone, 


Elizabeth  63 

and  then  it  will  all  come  down  to  dull  forti 
tude,  enough  to  tax  the  strength  of  the 
strongest." 

She  bit  her  lip,  so  that  the  marks  of  her 
teeth  were  left  upon  it.  She  was  not  pleased 
with  me. 

"She  who  has  the  fortitude  to  endure  the 
trials  of  such  place  as  you  would  assign  to 
women,  must  find  relief  in  any  other  trial. 
Do  you  think  nothing  better  of  us  than  you 
have  said  ?  Are  we  to  be  only  lookers-on  at 
the  serious  work  of  life?" 

My  wits  had  but  little  room  for  turning; 
but  they  were  conceiving  a  mighty  admira 
tion  for  this  girl. 

"What  will  you  do?"  I  persisted.  "It  is  a 
practical  problem,  to  be  solved  by  muscle,  as 
well  as  by  strength  of  will.  There  will  be 
plowing  in  tough  prairie  sod,  and  house 
building,  to  say  nothing  of  what  may  have 
to  be  done  with  rifles." 

"I  shall  go  with  these  people  and  shall  do 
my  part.  Haven't  women  always  done  their 
part  in  new  countries  ?  Have  they  ever  been 
found  wanting?  I  have  taught  school  in 
Ohio.  There  may  be  schools  to  be  taught  in 
Kansas  by  and  by." 


64  Sons  of  Strength 

Our  speech  had  been  free  of  any  adorn 
ments  of  courtesy;  for  we  were  speaking 
honestly,  and  courtesy  is  not  often  absolutely 
honest.  As  I  turned  and  looked  into  her  in 
tent  face,  it  was  honesty  which  flashed  out 
again : 

"If  there  be  schools  to  be  taught  in  Kan 
sas,  God  grant  they  may  be  taught  by  such  as 
you !"  I  held  out  my  hand,  and  when  she  had 
looked  at  me  for  a  moment,  she  laid  her  own 
hand  in  mine.  "Forgive  me,  won't  you?"  I 
asked.  "I  fear  I  am  not  very  wise  concerning 
women." 

"No,"  she  frankly  agreed;  "you  are  not 
beginning  right.  There  are  some  human 
qualities  that  are  not  limited  by  sex." 

Thereafter  we  talked  for  a  little  time  of 
other  and  lighter  things.  And  by  and  by, 
when  I  returned  to  my  wagon,  I  had  a  new 
thing  to  think  of,  for  whiling  away  the  slow 
hours.  I  thought  a  great  deal  about  her. 
And  at  night,  when  I  had  rolled  myself  in  my 
blanket  and  lain  down  upon  the  ground,  it 
was  a  long  time  before  I  slept.  It  was  a  beau 
tiful  night ;  heavy  with  sweet  summer  scents, 
softly  pulsing  with  a  blur  of  summer  sounds, 
a  light  south  wind  keeping  all  gently  astir ; — 


Elizabeth  65 

one  of  those  nights  which  make  a  man  think 
that  until  the  present  moment  he  has  not 
tasted  of  the  full  richness  of  life; — one  of 
those  nights  when  eyes  and  ears  are  of  no 
distinct  use,  save  as  aids  to  an  eerie  imagina 
tion.  I  think  I  felt  something  of  this,  as  I 
lay  staring  upward,  and  trying  to  form  the 
old  stars  into  the  lines  of  a  new  constellation, 
— two  of  the  brightest  for  eyes,  others  for 
lips  and  chin,  and  the  soft  mist  of  the  milky 
way  for  a  mass  of  fair  hair.  It  was  a  very 
beautiful  night. 


CHAPTER  VII 

SHADOWS  CAST  BEFORE 

THE  next  day  we  crossed  the  river  into 
Missouri,  where  we  had  to  expect  hostile  op 
position  to  our  progress,  when  it  should  be 
come  known  what  our  purpose  was.  We  had 
heard  many  ominous  tales  of  other  emi 
grants'  journey  ings  across  the  state;  those 
tales  might  not  be  all  true,  but  we  knew 
very  well  that  we  should  have  no  cor 
dial  welcome.  But  that  was  the  short 
est  way  into  Kansas,  and  our  impatience 
was  far  greater  than  our  caution.  We 
had  resolved  to  be  prudent,  keeping  our  wits 
about  us  and  our  mouths  shut,  so  far  as 
might  be.  We  could  do  no  more  than  that, 
for  we  were  but  eight  men,  all  told.  Our  fire 
arms  were  hidden  from  sight,  though  they 
were  not  beyond  reach  in  case  of  need.  It 
was  impossible  to  foretell  events,  and  that 
was  not  at  all  welcome ;  for  a  man  may  relish 
a  known  danger,  while  dreading  one  that  is 
altogether  imaginary. 
66 


Shadows  Cast  Before  67 

But  the  days  passed  in  outward  quiet,  after 
all.  Forbidding  looks  and  undertones  of 
threatening  import  were  lavished  plentifully 
upon  us,  but  we  met  with  no  direct  molesta 
tion,  and  that  was  all  we  had  hoped  for. 
Fortunately  we  were  all  endowed  with  a 
large  genius  for  silence,  which  has  served 
many  a  man  in  a  tight  place. 

A  part  of  my  daily  life  was  to  walk  for  a 
little  while  by  the  side  of  Elizabeth  Archi 
bald, — and  a  very  pleasant  part  of  life  it  was, 
full  of  many  things  of  which  I  had  not  even 
dreamed  before.  After  that  first  day,  we  had 
got  on  very  well  together,  talking  freely  of 
our  new  life.  And  by  and  by  we  began  to 
talk  of  other  things  than  politics  and  free 
dom.  It  is  hard  for  youth  to  be  altogether 
abstract  and  impersonal.  Abstractions  are 
pale  and  cool ;  the  blood  of  youth  is  red  and 
warm.  She  told  me  many  things  of  herself, 
and  of  the  life  that  she  had  left  behind  her; 
nor  was  it  long  until  she  knew  my  own  sim 
ple  story.  We  were  the  best  of  friends. 

And  thus,  with  one  golden  summer  day 
upon  another,  all  filled  with  the  winey  spirit 
of  free  life  and  hope,  with  the  blessedness  of 
unbounded  health,  and  with  anticipation  of 


68  Sons  of  Strength 

the  early  fruitage  of  our  plans,  we  drew  near 
to  Kansas  soil.  In  another  day  or  two  we 
should  take  our  places  among  the  makers  and 
moulders  of  a  free  state.  But  our  journey 
was  not  to  be  wholly  uneventful;  for  that 
happened  which  changed  the  course  of  our 
lives. 

We  were  plodding  slowly  forward  through 
the  sultry  day.  The  road  did  not  lead 
straight  away,  but  twisted  and  turned  along 
the  course  of  a  wooded  stream.  The  shad 
ows  vere  very  grateful,  and  the  air  was  of  a 
balmy  fragrance  which  acted  upon  our  hith 
erto  alert  senses  like  a  strong  sedative.  We 
were  intent  upon  nothing  save  the  drowsy 
pleasure  of  the  moment.  My  wagon  was  in 
the  lead  of  the  train,  and  as  I  turned  a  sharp 
bend  in  the  winding  trail,  I  came  upon  a  sight 
which  caused  me  to  stir  myself,  as  though  to 
shake  off  sleep ;  for  the  change  was  swift  as 
the  transformation  of  a  dream. 

There  was  a  cleared  place  in  the  midst  of 
the  deep  woodland  ahead,  and  in  the  middle 
of  the  clearing  there  stood  a  rude  log  house, 
large,  rough-hewn  and  mud-thatched.  A 
dull  cheerlessness  overhung  the  place,  as 
though  the  life  of  the  people  who  lived  there 


Shadows  Cast  Before  69 

was  a  constant  hard  struggle  to  subdue  the 
persistent  imps  of  the  wilderness.  The  door- 
yard  held  a  rank  growth  of  wild  plants  which 
had  arisen  since  the  timber  was  cleared  away, 
making  the  yard  to  look  ragged  and  frowzy, 
as  though  the  genius  of  pioneering  had  found 
this  task  too  great  and  had  sat  itself  down  in 
deep  dejection  of  spirit,  to  brood  upon  the 
futility  of  further  effort.  It  was  not  such  a 
home  as  I  had  left  behind  me,  nor  such  as  I 
hoped  to  make  for  myself  beyond  the  river. 
But  it  was  not  the  unpleasant  picture  of  wild- 
ness  that  startled  me. 

In  the  midst  of  the  tangled  yard  two  men 
stood  near  together,  facing  one  another. 
Both  were  tall,  well-made  and  strong,  and 
clad  in  the  loose  free  style  of  the  border, 
with  shirts  of  flannel  open  at  the  throat, 
and  coarse  trousers  tucked  into  the  tops  of 
cowhide  boots.  One  was  a  man  past  middle 
life,  as  might  be  seen  by  his  face  alone ;  for 
the  lift  of  his  shoulders  showed  all  the  tense 
vigour  of  the  prime  of  physical  manhood.  In 
his  powerful  right  hand  he  held  an  uplifted 
short  whip  of  rawhide,  ready  for  instant  use, 
and  with  it  he  made  strong  threatening  ges 
tures  as  he  talked.  The  other  man  was 


yo  Sons  of  Strength 

much  younger,  though  he  had  the  best  of  it 
in  robust  stature  and  breadth  of  shoulders. 
His  head  and  neck  were  full  of  that  mas- 
siveness  of  muscle  and  sinew  which  is  to  be 
seen  in  a  young  bull;  his  face  was  large, 
heavy  with  turgid  muscles,  and  clean  shaven, 
— or  perhaps  it  had  not  yet  come  to  the  time 
of  beard.  He  wore  no  hat,  but  his  head  was 
covered  with  a  close-tangled  thicket  of  tawny 
hair.  In  his  arms,  locked  tight  against  his 
breast,  he  held  a  half-naked  negro  child 
which  cowered  close  to  him,  its  face  hidden 
upon  his  neck.  Across  the  child's  bare  back, 
from  shoulder  to  waist,  was  the  livid  mark  of 
a  whip-stroke,  with  some  red  drops  of  blood 
trickling  out,  dyeing  the  gray  flannel  of  the 
young  rnan's  shirt. 

The  old  man's  face  was  contorted  in  a 
spasm  of  passion;  his  voice  was  a  high- 
pitched  impotent  shriek:  "Put  that  nigger 
down!" 

The  lad's  voice  came  like  the  masked  roll 
of  distant  thunder,  swelling  mightily  in  his 
throat,  as  though  it  was  hard  to  be  held 
back :  "I  will  not  put  her  down !" 

The  uplifted  whip  danced  wildly  for  a 
moment,  and  the  shriek  was  repeated  with  a 


Shadows  Cast  Before  71 

fierce  oath:  "Damn  you!  Put  that  nigger 
down !"  But  the  lad  stood  finely  erect,  mak 
ing  no  answer,  moving  no  muscle.  With  a 
sharp  cruel  sound  the  lash  descended  upon 
him,  and  then  it  was  his  own  blood  that 
stained  the  shoulder  of  his  shirt.  I  stood  up 
in  my  place  in  the  wagon,  bringing  my  horses 
to  a  stop.  I  did  not  wish  to  see  murder 
done.  The  young  man  was  much  more  than 
a  match  for  the  old  one ;  he  could  have  killed 
his  assailant  with  a  blow  of  his  great  fist. 
But  he  did  not  move,  save  to  raise  his  hand 
for  warding  the  blow  from  the  child.  When 
the  lash  had  fallen,  he  stood  like  a  statue. 
I  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  it,  and  I 
sprang  to  the  ground  and  began  to  push  my 
way  toward  them  through  the  matted  weeds. 
The  old  man  saw  me,  and  he  burst  forth  furi 
ously  :  "Stand  where  you  are !  What  do  you 
want  here?" 

I  continued  forward  slowly,  while  the 
young  man  also  turned  and  looked  at  me. 
His  was  such  a  face  as  cannot  be  forgotten ; 
it  was  the  face  of  one  whose  manhood  was  at 
its  strongest  and  best.  He  was  flashing  red 
and  white  by  turns  with  righteous  anger,  yet 
the  strong  firm  jaw  showed  perfect  mastery 


72  Sons  of  Strength 

of  self.  As  he  glanced  at  me  he  spoke  qui 
etly,  as  though  he  read  my  intention :  "Stand 
where  you  are,  please.  It's  all  over  now ;  he 
won't  strike  again." 

"Won't  I  ?"  the  old  man  screamed.  "You 
put  that  nigger  down,  or  I'll  strike  as  long  as 
I  can  lift  my  hand."  He  brandished  the 
whip,  as  though  to  make  good  his  word; 
but  I  sprang  forward  and  caught  his  uplifted 
wrist  firmly.  With  a  harsh  snarl  he  turned 
upon  me,  struggling  to  wrest  himself  from 
my  grasp.  He  threw  his  left  hand  behind 
him,  striving  to  reach  the  pocket  over  his 
right  hip ;  but  the  lad  had  set  the  child  upon 
the  ground  and  come  to  my  aid,  so  that  we 
each  held  one  of  the  old  man's  arms. 

"Don't  let  go,"  the  young  fellow  said  with 
the  same  quiet  manner  and  tone ;  "he'll  shoot, 
sure.  Wait  till  I  take  his  pistol  away." 
That  he  did  easily,  slipping  the  weapon  into 
his  own  pocket,  while  our  prisoner  struggled 
and  ground  his  teeth  in  silent  fury,  his  cheeks 
and  lips  purple,  his  eyes  frenzied. 

Never  in  all  of  my  life  have  I  seen  another 
human  face  so  devoid  of  humanity.  As  I 
now  remember  it,  it  gave  me  the  impression 
of  having  been  cheaply  furnished  with  a  lot 


Shadows  Cast  Before  73 

of  second-hand  features, — ill-matched  brutal 
eyes,  a  frayed  fringe  of  dry  beard  about  the 
throat  and  chin,  ill-formed  lips,  which  could 
not  hide  the  irregular  array  of  broken-down 
yellow  teeth  that  were  straggling,  toppling 
and  neglected  as  the  stones  in  a  forgotten 
graveyard.  It  was  not  a  face  upon  which 
kindness  could  lie  without  much  discomfort 
to  itself ;  it  seemed  wholly  surrendered  to  the 
foul  tokens  of  baseness  and  meanness,  and 
with  its  momentary  fierce  fury  fresh  upon 
it,  it  made  a  most  ungodly  sight. 

"I  wish  you  hadn't  come  in,"  the  young 
man  said  to  me.  "I  could  have  quieted  him, 
if  I'd  been  alone;  I've  done  it  lots  of  times 
before.  There's  no  use  try  in'  to  quiet  him 
now,  though.  I  reckon  we're  in  for  it.  We 
may  have  to  stand  here  and  hold  him  for  a 
week."  He  broke  into  a  broad  smile,  as 
though  he  found  some  humour  in  the  posi 
tion.  But  there  was  no  reflection  of  the 
smile  upon  the  sullen  old  face. 

"You're  a  strange  fellow,"  I  said,  speak 
ing  my  thoughts  plainly,  and  as  though  we 
were  out  of  hearing  of  our  captive.  "Why 
arc  you  afraid  of  him  ?  You  could  lift  him 
over  your  head,  big  as  he  is." 


74  Sons  of  Strength 

"What  good'd  that  do?"  he  answered. 
"I'd  have  pitched  him  over  the  roof,  long 
ago,  if  I'd  had  my  way.  But  he's  my  dad, 
you  see.  I  hain't  got  no  particular  regard 
for  him  on  that  score :  but  I  have  for  myself. 
It'd  kind  of  go  against  me  to  lift  my  hand 
to  him." 

"Well!  But  look  at  the  blood  on  your 
shirt,"  I  suggested.  He  appeared  to  have 
forgotten  his  hurt.  He  set  his  teeth  grimly 
as  he  turned  his  head  and  looked  at  the  dark 
stain  upon  his  sleeve,  and  his  voice  was  pas 
sionate  when  he  spoke  again. 

"Oh,  I've  taken  lots  off  of  him;  no  two 
ways  about  that.  I  wouldn't  have  took  it 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  Her." 

Who  might  Her  be,  I  wondered;  and  the 
boy  answered  the  question  in  my  eyes: 
"Mam,  you  know.  Dad's  good  to  her. 
Funny,  ain't  it?  She's  the  only  livin'  soul 
he  cares  a  straw  for.  He's  never  touched 
her.  I've  pretty  near  wished  he  would  lift 
his  hand  to  her,  sometimes, — just  easy,  like, 
so  I  could  feel  right  about  givin'  him  one 
lick  with  my  fist.  But  I  can't  do  it  so  long 
as  he  treats  her  right." 

The  old  man's  struggles  had  grown  less 


Shadows  Cast  Before  75 

furious,  as  he  gradually  realized  the  futility 
of  contending  against  us.  He  stood  with 
his  chin  sunk  doggedly  upon  his  breast, 
his  breath  coming  and  going  in  ragged 
gasps  through  his  widely  parted  lips.  Since 
we  had  laid  hands  upon  him,  he  had 
not  spoken  an  articulate  word,  though  his 
throat  was  choking  with  brutish  sounds.  He 
had  contented  himself  with  casting  evil  men 
acing  looks  from  one  of  us  to  the  other.  By 
this  time  two  or  three  of  the  other  wagons 
of  our  train  had  reached  the  clearing,  and  at 
sight  of  the  struggle  some  of  the  men  left 
their  seats  and  hurried  toward  us. 

"Tell  them  to  keep  away,"  the  young  man 
said.  "We  can  take  care  of  him."  The  men 
returned  to  their  places,  though  they  waited, 
to  be  ready  in  the  event  of  need. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  the  young  fellow 
asked.  "Is  it  a  Kansas  outfit?" 

"Yes,"  I  answered. 

"What  are  ye?    Free  Soilers?" 

"We  are  all  Free  Soilers,"  I  told  him. 

"Abolitionists?"  he  persisted. 

"I'm  an  Abolitionist,"  I  answered ;  "and  so 
are  some  of  the  rest  of  the  party." 

The  old  man  renewed  his  struggles  with 


j6  Sons  of  Strength 

greater  vigour  than  before,  while  white 
flecks  of  foam  lay  upon  his  livid  lips. 

"Let  me  go !"  he  bellowed.  "There's  no 
damned  Abolitionist  on  top  of  earth  shall 
hold  me !"  He  struck  out  viciously  with  his 
heavily  shod  feet,  and  gave  us  greater  trouble 
than  was  welcome  in  the  sultry  air. 

"I  reckon  two  of  'em  can  do  it,  though," 
the  son  said,  when  this  spasm  of  energy  had 
spent  itself.  The  old  man  turned  his  blazing 
eyes  upon  the  young  face,  and  his  muscles 
suddenly  relaxed. 

"You !"  he  gasped  through  drawn  lips. 

"Yes,  me!"  the  young  man  flared  in  an 
swer.  "Me !  An  Abolitionist !  Understand? 
Might  as  well  come  out  now,  Dad.  The 
same  township  can't  hold  you  and  me  no 
more  after  this,  not  while  we're  both  alive." 

"Then  Lord  strike  you  dead !"  the  father 
cried  harshly ;  and  again  his  chin  sank  upon 
his  breast. 

There  was  a  silence  of  doubt  upon  us  for  a 
few  minutes,  none  of  us  moving.The  old  man 
was  lost  in  his  own  gloomy  thoughts. 

"Say,"  the  young  giant  said  presently; 
"I've  got  to  get  out  of  this.  I  can't  stay 
here  no  more,  not  after  what's  happened 


Shadows  Cast  Before  77 

now.  Ain't  there  some  way  I  could  fix  it  to 
go  over  into  Kansas  with  you  folks  ?  I  take 
up  a  good  sight  of  room  myself,  but  I  ain't 
got  much  to  tote  with  me.  If  you'll  let  me, 
I'd  like  to  go  on  with  you  right  now.  I 
wouldn't  expect  to  stay  with  you,  under 
stand;  all  I  want's  passage.  I've  been  to 
Kansas.  I  know  all  the  settlements  from 
here  to  Lawrence,  where  most  of  the  Free 
Soilers  goes.  I  know  the  trails  to  take  to 
keep  away  from  the  Pro-Slaves.  You  ain't 
huntin'  trouble,  are  you?" 

I  liked  his  manliness;  his  fearless  sturdy 
way  appealed  to  me  strongly.  I  told  him 
that  he  could  have  a  seat  in  my  wagon  if  he 
wished  it. 

"I'm  much  obliged,"  he  said  simply.  "I 
ain't  goin'  to  forget  it,  neither."  He  looked 
at  his  father  and  then  at  me,  with  a  whimsi 
cal,  half-foolish  smile.  "What  am  I  goin'  to 
do  with  him?  If  we  let  him  go,  he'll  stir  up 
the  whole  county,  before  we  can  make  the 
twelve  miles  between  here  and  the  river. 
How  many  men  have  you  got  with  your  out 
fit?" 

"Eight,"  I  answered. 

"'Tain't  enough,"  he  said  decisively.     "If 


78  Sons  of  Strength 

we  let  him  go,  he'll  have  thirty  or  forty  on 
our  trail  inside  an  hour ;  an'  they'll  expect  to 
do  some  shootin',  too.  Thirty  men  can 
mostly  out-shoot  eight  or  nine.  We've  got 
to  fix  some  way  besides  lettin'  him  loose.  I 
reckon  there  ain't  no  way  but  to  tie  him  up. 
Rosy — look  at  that  little  nigger,  squattin' 
where  I  put  her,  scared  to  budge ! — Rosy,  run 
around  to  the  cow-yard  and  fetch  me  that 
bunch  of  rope  hangin'  on  the  fence.  Run 
along,  that's  a  good  child."  The  pitiful  lit 
tle  figure  crept  painfully  around  the  corner 
of  the  house,  returning  presently  with  a  coil 
of  stout  half-inch  rope.  With  this,  despite 
the  old  man's  powerful  struggles,  we  bound 
him  hand  and  foot,  wrapping  him  about 
with  the  rope-ends  until  he  was  wholly  help 
less. 

"I  better  tote  him  in  the  house,"  the  son 
said;  and  he  lifted  the  dead-weight  to  his 
shoulder  and  bore  it  into  the  cabin,  I  follow 
ing  as  he  beckoned  me.  "It's  a  good  thing 
Mam  ain't  to  home,"  he  said  as  he  laid  his 
burden  down  upon  the  floor  of  an  inner 
room.  "It'd  go  ag'in  her  to  see  Dad  mis 
treated  this  way."  He  stood  for  a  few  mo 
ments,  bending  over  his  father,  looking  into 


Shadows  Cast  Before          79 

the  hate-distorted  face.  Through  all  this 
later  time  the  old  man  had  not  spoken. 

"Dad,"  the  son  said;  "there  hain't  never 
been  no  love  between  you  an'  me ;  but  I  hate 
to  be  too  hard  on  you.  Will  you  promise  not 
to  holler,  if  I  leave  your  mouth  loose?"  The 
only  answer  was  a  sullen  stare,  malevolent, 
and  full  of  hard  unforgiveness.  I  turned 
away,  for  I  did  not  like  to  see  it ;  but  the  boy 
was  not  much  disturbed.  "All  right,  Dad," 
he  said  coolly;  "I  reckon  I'll  have  to  tie 
your  jaw  up,  too."  He  found  a  coarse  towel 
and  began  folding  it  into  a  strong  bandage, 
the  old  man  watching  with  kindling  eyes. 

"You  imp  of  hell !"  he  cried  in  his  helpless 
madness.  "Lord  hear  me!  Kansas  won't 
hide  you  from  me !  I'll  trail  you  to  the  end 
of  the  earth — I  will!  I  will! — "  But  ere  the 
fiery  threat  was  done,  the  towel  was  drawn 
beneath  the  wagging  jaw,  and  tied  firmly,  so 
that  no  sound  could  issue  from  the  ugly  lips 
save  the  sound  of  wild  passion  simmering  in 
the  hairy  throat. 

"It's  a  hot  day,"  the  son  grinned.  "He 
ain't  goin'  to  feel  very  good,  all  tied  up  like 
that,  an'  with  the  doors  shut.  Whose  fault 
is  it  but  his'n  ?  Mam  won't  be  home  till  sun- 


80  Sons  of  Strength 

down.  Unless  some  of  the  niggers  find  him, 
he'll  stay  here  four  or  five  good  hours  yet. 
We'll  be  mighty  close  to  Kansas  by  that 
time."  When  he  had  reached  this  conclusion 
he  seemed  well  pleased.  He  delayed  for  a 
little  while  to  gather  together  a  small  bundle 
of  clothing  and  some  odds  and  ends  of  his 
possessions.  Then  we  went  out,  closing  and 
locking  the  doors,  leaving  the  old  man 
stretched  upon  the  floor.  I  noticed  that  the 
owl-eyed  little  darkey  had  disappeared.  I 
feared  that  she  might  spread  an  alarm,  and 
I  said  so. 

"Who;  Rosy?"  the  young  man  laughed. 
"You  don't  need  to  worry  about  Rosy;  she 
ain't  goin'  to  say  nothin';  she  can't.  She 
hain't  ever  talked  none  since  she  was  born. 
She's  kind  of  foolish  in  her  head.  That's 
what  makes  Dad  get  so  mad  at  her, — be 
cause  she  don't  seem  to  have  no  sense." 

He  took  his  place  beside  me  upon  my 
wagon-seat,  and  our  train  got  under  way 
once  more.  He  was  full  of  boyish  glee, 
which  wrought  his  face  into  an  expression 
of  great  good  humour,  very  different  from 
its  stern  square- jawed  aspect  when  I  had 
first  seen  it.  Despite  his  great  size  and 
strength,  he  was  not  now  much  like  a  man. 


ON  THE  NEW  SOIL 

"SAY,  what's  your  name?"  my  companion 
asked  after  a  few  moments;  and  I  told  him 
my  name. 

"Pokey — Upjack!"  he  repeated  slowly, 
with  an  amused  chuckle.  "Pokey  Upjack! 
What  is  it?  Nigger  or  Injun?"  I  told  him 
as  well  as  I  could  where  and  how  the  name 
was  made.  He  listened  with  serious  atten 
tion,  but  without  comment. 

"My  name's  Arch  McCulloch,"  he  said 
when  I  had  done.  "Arch  is  just  the  short  of 
it ;  if  you  want  to  say  it  all,  it's  Archibald." 
Archibald !  The  name,  spoken  so  unexpect 
edly,  conjured  the  warm  blood  to  my  cheeks. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  asked,  looking 
at  me  curiously.  "You  act  like  you'd  heard 
the  name  before." 

"There's  a  lady  in  the  train  whose  name 
is  Archibald,"  I  answered ;  "so  I  have  heard 

it  before." 

Si 


8  2  Sons  of  Strength 

"That  so  ?"  he  asked,  with  a  light  show  of 
interest.  "Where's  she  from?" 

"Ohio,"  I  answered. 

"Why,  Mam  was  an  Archibald,  back  in 
Ohio.  That's  where  I  got  my  name, — for 
her  folks.  Mebbe  she's  some  of  my  kin. 
Whereabouts  is  she?" 

She  was  in  the  wagon  that  followed  mine, 
not  so  far  in  the  rear  but  that  McCulloch 
could  see  her  face  clearly.  "I  reckon  mebbe 
she's  one,"  he  said  briefly.  "There  ain't  none 
of  'em  right  down  handsome,  that  ever  I've 
seen, — chin's  too  square  an'  big,  an'  looks  too 
sassy.  She  looks  like  she  might  belong  to  the 
tribe.  I'll  find  out,  when  I  get  a  clean  shirt 
on.  Say,  he  must  have  hit  me  a  right  smart 
clip ;  my  shoulder  don't  feel  a  bit  good."  He 
lapsed  into  silence  for  a  while,  nursing  his 
injured  arm;  then  he  burst  out: 

"Dad,  he's  a  weak  one!  That's  why  I 
don't  like  him,  I  reckon.  I  don't  like  weak 
ones.  Mam,  she's  different.  It's  the  strong 
ones  I'm  sorry  for,  because  they  need  it.  A 
weak  one  never  tries  to  tote  nothin' ;  but  the 
strong  ones  is  always  tryin'  to  tote  more'n 
they  can  lift.  That's  Mam,  all  over.  It 
don't  look  right !"  By  a  swift  transition  he 


On  the  New  Soil  83 

seemed  once  more  a  man,  thoughtful  and 
stern-lipped.  His  face  was  subject  to  those 
quick  changes;  it  responded  at  once  to  his 
moods.  "That's  why  I'm  sorry  for  Him," 
he  said. 

"Him?"  I  repeated  in  question. 

"Yes; — Christ,  you  know.  Don't  you 
think  he  pretty  near  needed  it?  He  must 
have  got  awful  tired  an'  lonesome.  Ever 
been  lonesome,  Upjack? — Say,  is  Upjack 
all  of  your  last  name?  Or  is  it  all  one?" 

When  I  had  answered  his  last  question, 
he  seemed  to  have  quite  forgotten  the  one 
which  went  before  it;  he  did  not  recur  to  it 
again,  but  talked  in  that  inconsequential 
manner  of  many  things.  He  was  a  strange 
fellow.  Not  once  did  he  speak  of  the  cir 
cumstance  of  his  having  said  good-by  to 
home,  nor  did  he  seem  at  all  saddened  by  it. 
While  he  talked  so  lightly,  he  made  no  de 
mand  upon  me,  save  for  a  brief  word  once  in 
a  while,  to  show  that  attention  was  awake.  I 
was  studying  not  his  speech,  but  himself, — 
looking  at  him  in  the  light  of  his  name,  and 
wondering  what  might  come  of  this  strange 
meeting.  He  was  perfectly  sel  f -centered ; 
nothing  seemed  to  disturb  him,  or  to  throw 


84  Sons  of  Strength 

him  from  his  balance  of  calm  assurance.  De 
spite  his  knowledge  of  all  that  had  occurred 
within  the  space  of  a  short  hour, — despite  his 
ignorance  of  what  might  come  within  an 
other  hour,  he  was  not  at  all  dismayed.  He 
made  foolish  jokes;  he  told  quaint  stories  of 
the  life  of  the  border;  he  bared  his  head  to 
the  woodland  air,  and  seemed  quite  content. 

But  suddenly,  while  he  was  in  the  midst 
of  a  laugh  over  one  of  his  whimsical  tales, 
and  while  I  had  my  eyes  fixed  upon  him,  try 
ing  to  make  up  my  mind  about  him,  the  danc 
ing  lights  went  out  of  his  eyes,  and  they  were 
overcast,  while  the  heavy  muscles  in  his  face 
were  fixed. 

"There's  Mam  comin',"  he  whispered,  lay 
ing  his  hand  upon  my  arm.  "Oh,  Lord!  I 
'most  wish  I  hadn't  seen  her."  For  the  first 
time  since  our  meeting,  he  was  agitated. 

I  looked  ahead,  in  the  direction  of  his  dis 
mayed  glance,  and  though  it  was  a  heartless 
thing  to  do,  I  laughed,  for  the  picture  there 
was  quite  grotesque.  Along  the  shaded 
roadway  a  slow-paced,  harness-worn  old 
mule  was  coming  toward  us,  its  head  droop 
ing  to  its  knees,  its  eyes  half-closed.  Upon 
its  back  there  was  perched  a  diminutive  wo- 


On  the  New  Soil  85 

man's  figure,  clad  in  a  limp  and  dejected  garb 
of  rusty  black,  worn  shiny  and  bare  in  places, 
like  the  coat  of  the  mule;  and  she  wore  a 
much-creased  and  stringy  mourning-veil 
draped  from  a  fashionless  straw  bonnet. 
Her  whole  costume, — if  it  might  be  called  by 
so  high  a  name, — gave  pathetic  assurance  of 
having  been  home-made  out  of  something 
left  over;  the  wearer  herself  bore  the  dis 
pirited  air  of  being  a  badly-worn  left-over. 
Her  black  bonnet  made  a  shelter  for  her  face, 
so  that  I  could  not  see  what  she  was  like  un 
til  she  drew  near  to  us  and  levelled  the  barrel 
of  her  bonnet  upon  us ;  then  I  felt  sharp  sor 
row  for  having  laughed.  Her  face  was  thin, 
pale  and  haggard,  as  the  faces  of  so  many 
middle-aged  women  are,  bearing  that  dumb 
but  never  despairing  endurance  which  does 
not  fall  to  the  lot  of  many  men.  It  was  a 
very  sad  face,  with  faded  lips  held  in  calm 
restraint,  and  worn  eyes  full  of  patience. 

McCulloch  leaped  to  the  ground  and  ran 
toward  his  mother,  throwing  his  great  arms 
around  her,  lifting  her  from  her  saddle  and 
pressing  her  close  against  his  breast,  as  he 
might  have  held  a  child,  protecting  her  with 
his  strength.  He  pushed  her  bonnet  back, 


86  Sons  of  Strength 

and  kissed  her  again  and  again  upon  the 
faded  cheeks,  upon  the  lips  and  upon  the  thin 
gray  hair.  .When  I  saw  that,  I  began  to  love 
the  boy. 

"Mammy!"  he  cried  with  wonderful  deep 
feeling.  "Dear  old  Mammy !  I'm  goin' !" 

She  lay  quiet  in  his  arms,  looking  up  into 
his  face.  Her  own  face  did  not  change  its 
expression,  save  that  the  lines  upon  it  grew  a 
little  deeper. 

"Archy!"  she  said  in  a  moment:  "I  knew 
it  must  come,  some  time.  I  ain't  sorry,  be 
cause  I  reckon  it's  best."  She  laid  her  head 
down  upon  him,  and  he  put  his  cheek  against 
her  hair.  "Mammy's  baby  must  be  a  good 
boy,"  she  said.  "There'll  be  a-many  things 
to  go  wrong  with  him ;  but  he  mustn't  forget 
what  Mammy's  told  him."  The  great  fel 
low  seemed  very  plastic  under  her  words ;  the 
muscles  of  his  massive  chin  were  trembling, 
and  tears  were  running  down  his  broad 
cheeks. 

"Does  Dad  know?"  she  asked,  and  the 
boy's  tears  vanished  before  a  light  laugh. 

"He  knows,  all  right,"  he  grinned.  "He 
took  it  pretty  quiet,  too."  He  gave  himself 
up  for  a  moment  to  frank  enjoyment  of  his 


On  the  New  Soil  87 

joke;  then,  by  another  of  those  mysterious 
changes  he  was  a  man  again.  He  placed  her 
upon  her  saddle,  and  kissed  her  cheek  with 
all  of  a  man's  serious  way.  "Good-by, 
Mammy.  I  ain't  ever  goin'  to  forget  you. 
You'll  have  a  better  time  now,  too;  Dad  '11 
be  peacefuller  when  I  ain't  there  to  keep  him 
r'iled  up."  And  then  again  he  kissed  her 
upon  the  lips,  very  fondly.  "Now,"  he  said, 
"make  that  mule  lope  as  hard  as  she  can,  so 
you'll  get  out  of  sight  before  I  weaken." 

There  were  no  more  words  passed  between 
them.  Her  thoughts  were  so  full  of  him  that 
she  paid  no  attention  to  the  rest  of  us.  She 
urged  the  ancient  mule  into  a  heavy  lumber 
ing  trot,  stirring  up  a  cloud  of  road-dust 
through  which  beast  and  rider  showed  spec 
trally.  McCulloch  stood  quite  still  until  they 
had  gone  from  sight  down  the  winding  road ; 
then  he  laughed  irresponsibly. 

"A  woman  certainly  looks  comical  on  a 
mule,  don't  she?"  he  said,  as  he  climbed  to 
his  place  at  my  side;  "especially  if  you  get  a 
hind-sight  of  'em.  I'm  glad  I  got  to  see  her, 
though;  and  I'm  glad  my  last  sight  was  a 
hind-sight ; — it  looks  so  funny  it  don't  make 
me  feel  so  bad."  With  no  more  of  effort,  he 


88  Sons  of  Strength 

became  as  gay-hearted  as  he  had  been  before 
their  meeting.  But  sometimes,  as  we  rode 
along,  his  manner  would  show  quick  flashes 
of  thoughtfulness. 

"There's  just  one  thing  on  earth  I  don't 
know,"  he  said  at  one  of  those  times.  "What 
makes  Dad  and  Mam  stick  to  each  other  the 
way  they  do  ?  It  beats  me.  Every  way  else, 
he's  a  brute ;  there  ain't  nothin'  too  low-down 
for  him.  But  he  sure  does  act  right  with 
Mam.  And  say !  why  Mam  sticks  to  him  like 
he  was  worth  it.  There  ain't  nothin'  could 
make  her  go  back  on  him.  I  think  that's  the 
funniest  thing  in  Missouri." 

Soon  the  outlines  of  things  in  the  wood 
land  grew  shadowy  and  uncertain,  and  the 
shadows  seemed  to  encroach  more  and  more 
upon  the  roadway,  while  the  tiny  patches  of 
sky  showing  through  the  trees  were  deepen 
ing  from  blue  to  purple.  We  urged  our 
horses  forward.  Urgent  travel  was  most  un 
welcome  on  a  day  of  such  sultriness;  but 
should  we  fail  to  cross  the  river  ere  night 
fall,  we  should  most  likely  be  sorry  for  it. 
McCulloch  was  more  eager  than  any  of  our 
own  party  to  reach  Kansas  at  once,  and  he 
made  no  effort  to  hide  his  anxiety. 


On  the  New  Soil  89 

"I  ain't  scared  for  myself,"  he  said.  "I've 
got  you  fellows  to  think  about  now,  after 
you've  done  so  much  for  me.  I  reckon  I  had 
no  business  to  come  with  you;  I  never  took 
trouble  to  think  what  it  might  get  you  into. 
If  the  Blue  Lodge  scoundrels  get  after  you, 
they  won't  stop  at  anything." 

"Blue  Lodge?"  I  asked. 

"Blue  Lodge;  yes, — Social  Band, — Sons 
of  the  South ; — Lord !  don't  you  know  about 
them  ?  They're  societies,  an'  they  say  they're 
goin'  to  run  Kansas.  They've  come  pretty 
near  doin'  it,  too,  seems  to  me.  They've 
stood  pretty  close  together,  election  times,  an' 
such ;  they're  oath-bound,  you  know.  Every 
body,  pretty  near,  except  me,  belongs  to  'em  •; 
but  I  wouldn't,  an'  that's  why  I've  had  such 
a  warm  time  over  home.  I've  kept  my  mouth 
shut  mostly,  except  to  Mam ;  but  they  suspi 
cion  that  I'm  a  little  contrary  on  this  nigger 
business.  If  we  don't  get  over  the  ferry  to 
night,  they'll  be  after  us,  sure,  hot-foot." 

But  I  was  not  very  well  pleased  with  my 
self,  when  I  thought  about  it;  for  here  was 
I  running  away  from  the  first  shadow  of  dan 
ger, — it  was  not  even  a  shadow  of  real  dan 
ger  ;  it  was  nothing  but  a  fear.  I  turned  my 


90  Sons  of  Strength 

horses  out  to  the  side  of  the  road  and  let  the 
rest  of  the  wagons  pass  on,  so  that  McCul- 
loch  and  I  might  have  the  hindmost  place  in 
the  train;  then  we  let  our  horses  take  their 
own  time,  and  we  felt  better  about  it.  When 
McCulloch  saw  what  I  meant  to  do,  he 
laughed  delightedly  and  laid  his  arm  across 
my  shoulders. 

"Say,  me  an'  you  ought  to  be  pardners.  I 
like  the  way  you  do.  I  ain't  never  had  a  fight 
yet;  but  that  ain't  say  in'  I  don't  want  one. 
I've  been  pretty  close  up  to  the  edge  of  one 
sometimes,  but  I  don't  seem  to  be  able  to  get 
in  the  middle."  He  held  his  hands  together 
upon  his  knees,  cracking  his  huge  knuckles 
with  great  relish.  "Trouble  is,  I  ain't  got  no 
judgment.  If  I  had  my  way,  I'd  never  stop 
to  think  about  odds  or  outcome;  I'd  just 
fight.  Mam,  she's  watched  out  for  me,  lots 
of  times,  or  I  wouldn't  be  here  now.  She  says 
it  ain't  right  to  fight !  Ain't  that  a  crazy  no 
tion  ?  I  don't  see  the  sense  of  it,  except  be 
cause  Mam  says  it.  Understand,!  don't  want 
to  make  a  fuss  about  nothin' ;  but  sometimes 
things  do  get  so  mixed  up  an'  all  wrong, 
it  looks  as  if  a  good  hard  lick  with  a  big  fist 
like  mine  maybe  might  straighten  'em  out. 


On  the  New  Soil  91 

Then's  when  I  want  to  fight.  An'  look  here, 
I'll  tell  you  what :  If  them  Blue  Lodge  cow 
ards  ever  cross  my  trail  over  in  Kansas,  you 
know  what  I'm  goin  to  do?  I'm  just  goin' 
to  go  to  work  an'  forget  everything  Mam's 
ever  told  me,  until  I  lay  a  few  of  'em  out." 
As  I  looked  into  his  flushed  face,  I  found 
my  heart  acknowledging  kinship  to  his,  and 
sending  the  warm  blood  in  a  red  flood  to  my 
cheeks.  I  thought  of  dear  old  Adams,  and 
of  his  gentle  caution  and  counsel  of  peace; 
and  I  was  startled  to  find  how  soon  those 
mild  influences  had  begun  to  seem  very  faint, 
unreal  and  far  away,  now  that  I  had  stepped 
into  my  new  life  and  the  time  was  drawing 
near  when  I  should  have  to  make  up  my  mind 
for  myself  about  the  business  of  fighting. 
Though  I  thought  of  Adams'  warning  of  pa 
tience,  the  echo  of  his  words  in  my  memory 
did  not  deaden  my  quickening  heart-beats. 
Who,  after  all,  will  deny  to  a  man  the  wild 
joy  and  the  glory  of  conflict  for  righteous 
ness'  sake?  Is  he  true  to  himself  who  only 
strives  to  subdue  and  to  conquer  the  pulses  of 
passionate  fire  that  beat  and  leap  in  his  soul 
when  he  looks  upon  wrong  and  injustice; — 
who  lets  the  wrong  go  unrighted,  and  quiets 


92  Sons  of  Strength 

his  coward  heart  by  prating  of  peace?  It 
does  a  man  good  to  surrender  himself  for 
once  in  a  while  to  his  longing  to  see  justice 
done, — not  counting  the  cost;  letting  heart, 
head  and  hand  work  together,  giving  all  that 
he  has  and  is  to  do  good  to  his  kind  when 
they  need  him.  The  purest  joys  of  my  life 
have  not  come  to  me  over  the  byways  of  cau 
tion  and  prudence,  but  over  the  great  broad 
highway  of  manhood's  God-given  passions. 
The  men  who  have  led  and  ruled  the  world 
in  its  serious  work  have  been  those  who  have 
placed  full  trust  in  their  manhood;  for  cau 
tion  makes  man  but  a  pigmy,  but  passion 
makes  him  a  giant.  4  thought  of  these  things 
as  we  two  sat  together  on  that  summer  even 
ing,  wondering  what  was  before  us,  and  hop 
ing  we  might  have  the  spirit  to  make  the 
most  of  ourselves. 

But  we  were  not  yet  to  be  suffered  to  make 
trial  and  proof  of  ourselves.  McCulloch's 
knots  must  have  been  well  tied,  for  as  night 
fell  we  reached  the  shores  of  the  river  with 
out  adventure,  and  ere  the  darkness  had  quite 
enclosed  us  we  were  upon  the  soil  of  the 
great  new  territory,  which  rolled  away  and 
away,  a  vast  and  beautiful  land  of  promise. 


CHAPTER  IX 

ALL  ON   A   SUMMER    NIGHT 

IT  WAS  a  solemn  hour  for  us  all.  We  were 
not  mere  adventurers  in  search  of  material 
rewards  for  effort.  We  had  hoped  to  work 
out  for  ourselves  the  chance  for  walking  up 
right  under  a  free  sky,  as  men  and  women 
surely  have  the  right  to  do,  and  we  wished  to 
open  the  way  for  other  like-minded  ones  to 
come  after  us.  I  do  not  think  we  were  self 
ish  ;  had  we  been  so,  we  must  have  kept  out 
of  Kansas.  We  had  a  purpose  before  which 
the  consideration  of  self  faded  away,  like 
night-fogs  before  sunlight.  I  do  not  say  this 
for  boastfulness'  sake,  but  because  of  the 
wish  that  the  hardy  spirit  of  my  companions 
may  be  understood.  We  were  not  vain  of 
our  achievement  in  reaching  the  new  soil,  but 
we  were  pleased  and  glad ; — serious,  too,  and 
inclined  to  speak  few  words;  for  there  was 
among  us  an  understanding  far  stronger 
than  any  which  might  have  been  built  upon 
words. 


94  Sons  of  Strength 

When  we  had  gone  a  little  way  back  from 
the  river-landing,  by  a  quiet  trail  which  Mc- 
Culloch  showed  us,  we  made  our  camp  for  the 
night,  and  after  we  had  eaten  a  little,  and  had 
cared  for  our  horses  and  picketed  them  near 
the  wagons  to  graze,  we  lay  down  to  sleep. 
To  sleep !  Once  I  was  stretched  at  my  length 
upon  the  ground,  sleep  seemed  a  foolish 
thing  to  be  thought  of.  The  flames  of  the 
sinking  camp-fire  threw  fitful  lights  and 
shadows  upon  the  white  wagon-covers, — 
strange  handwriting  upon  new  walls,  full  of 
portentous  prophecy,  if  only  it  might  be  in 
terpreted; — lights  prophetic  of  well-being; 
shadows  pregnant  with  threat  of  things  not 
all  easy,  though  no  doubt  to  make  for  our 
good  at  last.  And  the  night  wind,  stirring  in 
the  prairie  grasses,  seemed  to  be  doing  its 
best  to  whisper  an  interpretation  to  my  lis 
tening  ears,  and  its  voice  was  sweet  and  low 
and  soothing.  I  could  not  sleep ;  I  could  not 
even  think.  The  soul  sometimes  reaches 
those  exalted  estates  where  it  finds  the  pro 
cess  of  thought  impossible  and  unnecessary ; 
— where  all  it  needs  do  is  to  lay  itself  bare 
and  take  its  blessing  without  effort,  fresh 
from  the  hand  of  God.  And  while  I  lay 


All  On  a  Summer  Night       95 

there,  it  was  with  soul  bared.  Manhood 
stretched  away  before  me  like  the  wide 
prairie,  sun-kissed,  wind-caressed,  but  wild 
and  unsubdued.  Prairie  and  soul  together 
were  to  be  wrought  into  order,  and  to  render 
of  their  fruits  according  to  their  richness. 

By  and  by  I  saw  that  some  one  was  mov 
ing  in  one  of  the  wagons.  It  was  near  to 
midnight,  and  the  drive  of  the  day  had  been 
long  and  exhausting ;  I  had  thought  that  my 
companions  must  all  be  sleeping  soundly. 
The  women  alone  kept  to  the  wagons  in  the 
night-time ;  so  I  knew  that  it  was  one  of  them 
who  had  found  herself  stirred  beyond  power 
of  sleep.  Why  I  hoped  so  it  might  have 
been  hard  to  say;  but  I  did  hope  that  it 
was  Elizabeth  Archibald.  In  a  moment 
I  saw  that  it  was  she,  for  she  drew 
apart  the  rear  curtains  of  the  wagon-cover 
and  stepped  quietly  down  to  the  ground. 
She  had  thrown  some  light  drapery  over  her 
head,  and  she  began  to  pace  softly  back  and 
forth  just  beyond  reach  of  the  dying  fire 
light,  but  where  I  could  see  her  form  outlined 
against  the  starlit  sky.  As  I  watched  her,  my 
wandering  thoughts  came  to  a  focus  upon 
her.  Day  by  day,  as  I  had  looked  at  her, 


96  Sons  of  Strength 

talked  to  her  and  listened  to  what  she  had  to 
say  out  of  a  pure  heart  and  a  resolute  mind, 
I  had  found  myself  looking  not  alone  for 
ward,  but  upward  as  well.  I  had  not  thought 
of  love, — I  mean  I  had  not  thought  of  lov 
ing  her,  but  had  given  myself  up  to  those  in 
fluences  which  womanly  goodness  and  purity 
exert  upon  a  man.  Theretofore  I  had  been 
quite  content  to  see  her  sometimes,  without 
growing  impatient  over  delay;  but  now  I 
longed  for  the  sound  of  her  voice.  I  fol 
lowed  her  with  my  eyes  for  a  few  moments 
more;  then  I  arose,  drew  on  my  coat  which 
had  served  for  my  pillow,  and  went  out  to 
meet  her. 

She  paused  in  her  walk  when  she  heard  my 
step  in  the  long  grass,  and  I  said  quietly,  for 
reassurance  sake:  "It  is  only  I — Upjack. 
Have  you  too  been  restless?" 

"No,"  she  answered  me;  "not  restless  at 
all,  but  calmer  than  I  have  been  since  we 
started  from  home, — so  calm  that  there's  no 
need  for  sleep.  The  wagon  was  so  narrow 
and  cramped.  I  wanted  to  get  away  from 
it,  and  from  everything  there, — from  wheels, 
and  implements,  and  bed-clothes,  and  every- 


All  On  a  Summer  Night       97 

thing  so  pitifully  human.  Do  you  under 
stand  ?  This  immense  night  suits  me  better." 

"Did  you  want  to  be  alone?"  I  asked. 
"Maybe  I  would  better  go  back  to  my 
blanket" 

"No ;  stay,"she  said  simply.  She  laid  her 
hand  in  the  cradle  of  my  arm,  and  we  walked 
slowly  onward  side  by  side,  away  from  the 
camp.  She  did  not  speak  again  for  some 
time,  nor  did  I ;  she  appeared  to  be  wholly 
occupied  with  her  enjoyment  of  the  wide 
peaceful  night,  so  restful  and  beneficent. 
And  I  found  myself  strangely  at  peace,  too, 
— a  new-born  peace,  though  whether  it  came 
of  the  gentle  influences  of  the  night,  or  grew 
up  wholly  within  my  heart,  I  could  not  have 
said  surely.  I  was  glad  to  be  there,  and  glad 
to  have  the  light  warm  hand  upon  my  arm. 
The  girl's  face  was  indistinct  in  the  star 
light,  but  I  could  see  that  its  expression  was 
wondrously  softened,  by  so  much  as  the  star 
light  was  softer  than  light  of  day.  And  while 
I  timed  my  steps  to  hers,  I  looked  sometimes 
at  her,  and  sometimes  far  away  toward  the 
vague  line  of  the  horizon. 

"What  a  strange  thing  happened  to-day," 
she  said  by  and  by,  speaking  as  though  her 


98  Sons  of  Strength 

thoughts  had  been  dwelling  upon  the  matter. 
"Were  they  father  and  son?" 

"Father  and  son,"  I  answered.  "It  does 
seem  strange.  It's  like  finding  a  lion  sired 
by  a  jackal.  There  was  never  greater  con 
trast  between  men.  The  boy  has  untamed 
courage;  I'm  glad  he's  to  be  with  us." 

"I  like  such  bravery,"  she  said  quietly, 
"because  it's  a  natural  part  of  the  man.  True 
bravery  isn't  at  all  artificial,  is  it?" 

I  had  to  think  for  a  moment  before  I  knew 
that  I  agreed  with  her.  "No,"  I  said;  "if 
you  mean  the  fighting  instinct,  it's  certainly 
born  in  the  animal,  with  the  rest  of  his  her 
itage  of  brutality."  I  was  not  speaking  quite 
as  I  had  that  day  learned  to  think,  but  I 
wished  to  hear  what  she  would  say. 

"Of  course,"  she  said,  "the  mere  unrea 
soning  instinct  is  valueless.  Its  fineness  lies 
in  keeping  a  clear  eye  on  the  object." 

"But  the  mere  physical  courage  of  the 
fighting  man  isn't  rational,"  I  said  per 
versely.  "The  fighter  does  his  thinking 
afterwards." 

She  turned  her  face  toward  me,  and  her 
fingers  tightened  somewhat  upon  my  arm. 
"That  isn't  true,  is  it?"  she  asked  quietly. 


All  On  a  Summer  Night      99 

I  laughed  a  little  shamefacedly;  and  I 
was  glad,  too,  that  I  had  been  found  out. 
"No,"  I  owned;  "it  isn't  altogether  true. 
But  this  is :  Women  always  overvalue  physi 
cal  courage  in  a  man.  They  do  it  as  natural 
ly  as  men  fight.  Both  together  are  relics  of 
the  old  days.  The  lioness  stands  by  while  the 
lions  tear  each  other,  and  then  she  mates  with 
the  victor." 

There  was  a  little  silence  after  that,  while 
once  again  I  felt  that  I  had  failed  to  please 
her  with  my  speech.  I  was  finding  out  that 
I  always  failed  to  please  her  by  just  so  much 
as  my  speaking  wandered  from  the  candid 
truth.  She  had  a  strange  divination  of  the 
truth,  even  as  it  lay  in  another's  heart. 

"Forgive  me,  girl,"  I  said  presently.  "I 
shall  never  speak  so  to  you  again.  Now  let 
me  be  honest,  just  for  my  own  credit.  The 
real  bravery  of  the  man  lies  in  his  keeping  to 
his  manliness,  no  matter  what  the  hazard. 
He  must  make  no  concessions  and  no  com 
promises.  He  must  go  willingly  where  that 
course  leads  him,  whether  it  be  through  the 
frost  of  disapproval,  or  through  the  fire  of 
battle.  He  must  take  what  comes  of  such 


loo  Sons  of  Strength 

course,  and  look  upon  what  comes  as  a  bless 
ing;  for  it  will  be  a  blessing.     Now!" 

And  right  glad  I  was  to  have  done  so  well. 
She  drew  nearer  to  my  side,  with  her  head 
bent  down,  and  both  of  her  hands  were  laid 
upon  my  arm,  with  a  swift  pressure ;  then  she 
laughed  softly,  and  her  laugh  carried  a  note 
that  thrilled  me.  I  thought  that  her  hand,  as 
I  pressed  it  to  my  side,  must  feel  my  heart's 
quicker  beating. 

"Now  we  understand  one  another,"  she 
said. 

"Upon  that  matter,  at  least,"  I  answered. 

"Nothing  else  signifies,"  she  returned. 

"We  have  said  nothing  of  women,"  I 
urged. 

"Why  need  we?  Do  you  set  a  different 
standard  for  the  woman  ?" 

"Yes." 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  say  so,"  she 
breathed.  "It  must  be  a  lower  one;  there  is 
no  higher." 

"No,"  I  said  strongly.  "But  it  is  very 
different, — as  different  as  peace  is  from 
strife.  For  strong  strife  and  watchful  care 
are  the  price  a  man  pays  for  his  goodness,  if 
he  gets  it  at  all.  He  has  to  achieve  it  by 


All  On  a  Summer  Night    101 

effort.  But  goodness  is  the  woman's  lawful 
heritage.  Why,  girl!  it's  surely  plain 
enough !  Look  at  the  face  of  a  good  man ; 
it  bears  the  hard  marks  of  the  terrible  strug 
gle  of  restraint.  But  the  face  of  a  good 
woman  is  placid  and  serene." 

We  walked  on,  silent,  thoughtful.  I 
burned  to  say  more,  but  I  dared  not.  It  was 
a  trying  thing  to  have  come  to  an  under 
standing  with  this  girl;  it  tried  me  in  more 
ways  than  one,  though  I  rejoiced  in  the  trial. 
For  I  have  ever  been  one  of  those  whose 
thoughts  are  slow  to  waken,  and  slow  to 
move, — lying  still  and  sleeping  under  the 
fret  of  light  circumstances,  but  moving  at 
last  with  a  firmness,  right  or  wrong,  that  is 
hard  to  be  subdued.  And  all  at  once  I  found 
them  awakened  and  aroused  to  such  pitch  of 
vigour  that  I  must  keep  firm  hold  upon 
them.  I  feared  to  say  all  that  I  thought, 
though  I  thought  nothing  unworthy.  No 
man  will  understand  this,  unless  his  mind  be 
of  the  slow  and  ponderous  type,  like  my 
own. 

After  a  while  Elizabeth  paused  and  turned 
back  toward  the  camp.  "We  forget  to-mor 
row,"  she  said.  "We  shall  have  to  be  careful 


IO2  Sons  of  Strength 

of  our  strength,  until  we  have  come  to  the 
end  of  our  journey.  We  must  go  back  now 
and  sleep ;  we  must  at  least  rest." 

We  said  nothing  as  we  walked  toward  the 
glowing  speck  of  the  campfire.  When  we 
were  within  the  circle  of  the  firelight,  she 
gave  me  her  hand.  "Good  night,"  she  said, 
and  her  beautiful  eyes  were  lifted  to  mine. 
I  held  her  hand  for  only  an  instant,  while  I 
looked  at  her, — for  only  an  instant,  yet  in 
that  brief  time  I  saw  how  generous  and  sweet 
a  gift  life  might  be,  if  its  ways  were  lit  by 
eyes  like  those,  so  true  and  pure.  Yes,  more 
than  that ;  I  saw  that  I  was  suddenly  uplifted 
by  a  passionate  desire  to  have  the  ways  of  my 
own  life  so  illumined.  I  knew  surely,  surely, 
that  my  heart  was  no  longer  but  a  still  pool, 
unstirred  from  within ;  it  was  a  living  foun 
tain,  with  love  welling  in  its  depths.  And 
as  I  knew  that,  I  bent  my  head  and  touched 
the  girl's  hand  with  my  lips,  and  then  I  closed 
my  own  hand  upon  it,  so  that  she  had  to  let 
me  keep  it  for  a  moment  longer,  though  she 
tried  to  take  it  from  me,  her  cheeks  glowing 
rosy-red  in  the  dull  light. 

"Girl,  girl !"  I  said,  struggling  to  possess 
myself;  "we  understand  one  another  some- 


All  On  a  Summer  Night    103 

what,  but  not  perfectly.  Sometime — "  But 
I  saw  then  that  I  gave  her  distress;  and  so, 
though  I  could  not  hold  my  tongue  in  check, 
now  that  it  was  set  a-going.  I  did  the  only 
other  thing  I  could, — I  loosed  her  hand  from 
mine,  and  turned  away  to  my  bed  upon  the 
ground  beyond  the  fire. 

McCulloch's  place  was  beside  mine,  and  as 
I  made  ready  to  lie  down,  I  saw  that  he  was 
awake  and  looking  at  me,  his  broad  face 
smiling.  "You're  a  sly  pair!"  he  said. 
"Midnight,  and  starlight,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing !  Oh,  you'll  do !  You  can  go  up  head 
of  the  class!"  But  I  put  out  my  hand  and 
laid  it  upon  his  lips.  I  was  not  in  the  mood 
for  his  light  raillery.  He  seemed  to  under 
stand,  for  he  grasped  my  hand  quickly  with 
his  strong  fingers  and  gave  it  a  sympathetic 
pressure. 

"I  didn't  mean  nothin',"  he  said  seriously. 
"I'm  glad ; — sure  I  am.  A  man  like  you  al 
ways  treats  a  woman  right."  He  turned 
away,  drawing  his  blanket  over  him,  and  I 
soon  thought  him  asleep ;  but  he  was  not. 

"I'd  like  to  love  a  nice  girl,"  he  said  in  that 
frank  direct  manner  of  his.  "It  must  do  a 
man  good,,  don't  it?" 


1 04  Sons  of  Strength 

I  laughed  a  little  foolishly ;  but  his  boyish 
innocence  inspired  confidence,  and  I  an 
swered  without  embarrassment :  "I  think  so, 
surely.  I'm  a  better  man  than  I  was  an  hour 
ago." 

"An  hour  ago !"  he  repeated.  "You  don't 
mean  it's  only  an  hour?" 

"Yes;  less  than  that,"  I  said.  "You  saw 
more  than  there  was  to  see  McCulloch. 
There's  nothing  between  us  as  yet;  but  I 
hope — sometime — "  And  there  again  I  had 
to  stop.  He  sat  erect,  resting  his  elbows 
upon  his  knees,  his  chin  upon  his  hands, 
while  his  unclouded  eyes  studied  the  fire  and 
the  dim  landscape  that  lay  beyond. 

"I  hope  so,"  he  said  soberly.  "Anyway, 
you'll  be  likely  to  remember  your  first  night 
in  Kansas,  won't  you?  I'd  be  glad  now  to 
find  that  she's  some  of  my  kin.  Maybe  I'll  be 
callin'  you  Cousin  Pokey  one  of  these  days ; 
how'd  you  like  that?"  But  like  most  of  his 
questions,  that  did  not  require  any  answer; 
at  least  he  did  not  seem  to  expect  one,  for  he 
made  himself  comfortable  upon  his  rude 
couch  and  was  soon  breathing  deeply,  as  be 
came  a  tired  man. 

He  slept  soundly  enough  for  two;  which 


All  On  a  Summer  Night    105 

was  well,  for  I  could  not  sleep  at  all,  but  had 
to  lie  with  wide  eyes  staring  up  at  the  night 
sky,  taking  no  account  of  the  passing  of  the 
hours  until  the  stars  began  to  sink  far  into  a 
vast  ocean  of  pearl-gray ;  and  this  was  turned 
to  azure,  and  then  to  rose-pink.  Here  and 
there,  away  out  upon  the  prairie,  there 
sounded  a  sleepy  bird-note,  faint  and  weak 
at  first,  then  swelling  sweet  and  clear,  and 
multiplied  by  many,  until  the  wide  stretch  of 
hill  and  vale  was  alive,  echoing  and  resound 
ing  with  the  riotous  symphonic  overture  to 
day.  It  was  a  beautiful  day-dawn ;  the  most 
beautiful  I  have  ever  seen,  and  the  sweetest 
and  the  fullest  of  all  goodness;  for  so  do 
things  appear  to  a  man  when  love  has 
touched  his  eyes  with  its  soft  finger-tips.  I 
was  a  happy  man,  though  my  happiness  had 
no  surer  foundation  than  doubt  and  uncer 
tainty  of  the  outcome.  But  though  I  had  not 
yet  much  clear  hope,  I  hoped  sometime  to 
have  it ;  and  in  the  meantime  doubt  was  very 
sweet  and  worthy  of  being  cherished. 


CHAPTER  X 


WHEN  the  glory  of  the  morning  had 
taken  full  possession  of  earth  and  sky,  I  arose 
and  busied  myself  with  the  camp-fire,  and 
with  the  beginnings  of  breakfast.  McCul- 
loch  soon  followed  me.  When  he  stood 
before  me,  he  laid  his  great  hands  upon  my 
shoulders,  looking  at  me  as  though  I  was  a 
child  who  had  done  something  worthy,  for 
which  he  wished  to  praise  me. 

"It's  all  right,  Pokey,"  he  said.  "I  like 
you  first  rate.  You  an'  me'll  have  to  be 
pardners,  I  reckon,  if  we  can  make  a  deal. 
I'd  kind  o'  like  to  keep  my  eye  on  you, 
an'  see  how  things  go.  I  ain't  no  slouch  to 
work.  You  just  keep  thinkin'  about  it  a 
little."  He  did  not  wait  for  an  answer  then, 
but  set  about  doing  his  share  of  the  work, 
bringing  in  wood,  carrying  water  from  the 
near-by  creek,  and  caring  for  the  horses. 
But  although  I  made  a  good  beginning  at 
thinking  of  his  plan,  I  made  no  end  of  it; 


The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock   1 07 

for  thought  of  him  soon  faded  away,  and 
thought  of  my  love  took  its  place.  Nor  do 
I  blame  myself  now,  when  thinking  back 
upon  that  time ;  for  it  seems  to  be  a  part  of 
God's  plan  for  us  that  we  shall  set  greater 
store  by  love  than  by  any  other  of  life's  ne 
cessities.  Surely  I  was  not  very  practical- 
minded  upon  that  morning,  for  I  suffered 
the  fire  to  sink  low,  and  made  poor  headway 
with  cooking  the  breakfast,  until  the  women 
came  from  their  wagon  to  help. 

But  by  and  by  we  ate  our  simple  meal, 
doing  it  hurriedly ;  for  we  were  now  come  to 
the  time  when  we  must  forego  too  close 
friendship  with  the  past  and  ally  ourselves 
with  the  future.  Kansas  was  at  hand;  we 
must  make  up  our  minds  what  we  were  to 
do.  And  in  that  matter,  we  were  very  will 
ing  to  listen  to  McCulloch's  ingenuous  coun 
sel. 

"I  don't  like  to  load  advice  on  to  you," 
he  said  in  a  modest  deprecation  of  our  trust ; 
"but  mebbe  I  can  tell  you  a  few  things  you 
don't  know  about  the  territory  an'  the  folks 
that's  in  it.  It's  mostly  along  the  river  that 
the  Pro  Slaves  has  made  the  most  trouble  for 
the  Free  State  men, — of  course  so,  with  Mis- 


1 08  Sons  of  Strength 

souri  just  across  the  river.  If  you  folks  want 
fightin'  an'  excitement,  you  better  stay  right 
around  here.  If  you  want  to  settle  down 
and  be  quiet,  this  ain't  no  place  for  you. 
This  is  the  way  the  Blue  Lodge  fellows 
have  fixed  it:  There  ain't  a  great  sight 
of  'em  livin'  in  Kansas,  but  they're  right 
handy,  don't  you  see?  so  they  can  come 
across  when  there's  anything  to  be  looked 
after.  Every  town  an'  every  county  along  the 
river  is  Pro  Slave,  whenever  the  Blue  Lodge 
chaps  take  a  notion  to  come  over  an'  run 
things.  Now  that's  the  truth."  He  was 
speaking  with  much  earnestness,  and  so 
simply  that  we  could  not  doubt  his  good  in 
tention.  To  me  at  least  as  he  proceeded,  his 
speech  was  like  a  blazing  torch,  given  us  to 
light  our  uncertain  way.  "I'll  tell  you  what 
I've  been  thinkin'  over  night.  I  think  you 
better  go  down  on  the  Wakarusa:  know 
where  that  is?  It's  a  good  country,  an' 
there's  where  most  of  the  Free  State  folks 
from  the  east  have  gone, — the  first  Boston 
colony,  an'  a  lot  more.  There's  good  com 
pany  out  there,  an'  good  land,  too.  I've 
been  down  there  and  looked  it  over.  There's 
where  I'd  go,  if  it  was  me  doin'  it.  There's 


The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock   1 09 

a  first-rate  good  town  been  laid  out  down 
on  the  Wakarusa  river, — the  first  town  in 
the  territory.  I  reckon  you've  heard  about 
Lawrence,  haven't  you? — named  after  some 
Boston  chap  that  helped  it  along.  The 
folks  down  there  know  what  they've 
come  for,  an'  that's  a  good  beginning,  ain't 
it?  The  man  that  knows  what  he  wants  is 
more  apt  to  get  it  than  him  that  ain't  made 
up  his  mind  yet.  That's  the  way  I  figure 
it  out." 

There  was  so  much  of  homely  common 
sense  in  what  he  said  that  we  were  not  long 
in  deciding  to  trust  to  his  judgment 
wholly;  for,  although  he  was  so  plainly  un 
schooled  and  untrained  save  in  those  ele 
mental  instincts  which  are  the  rightful  pos 
session  of  Nature's  out-door  sons,  we  felt 
safer  in  confiding  ourselves  to  the  guidance 
of  such  instincts  than  in  relying  upon  our 
own  ability  to  reason  the  matter  out  logically. 
One  of  the  chiefest  blessings  of  pioneer 
ing  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  brings  men  into 
first  relations  with  nature,  and  teaches  them 
to  trust  to  their  instincts.  As  a  rule,  we  are 
too  skeptical  of  our  instincts,  when  we  have 
gotten  a  little  of  what  we  call  wisdom. 


no  Sons  of  Strength 

"We'd  better  keep  off  the  main  trails," 
McCulloch  said  when  we  were  getting  ready 
to  move.  "We  ain't  out  of  reach  of  Dad's 
company  yet,  an'  we  don't  want  them  to 
clean  us  up  the  first  day,  do  we  ?  You  take 
my  way  an'  if  they  don't  catch  up  with  us 
to-day,  we'll  be  safe  enough  after  that."  He 
seemed  a  little  ill  at  ease  while  he  gave  this 
advice,  as  though  he  did  not  quite  relish  its 
flavour  in  his  mouth.  While  he  and  I  were 
putting  our  horses  into  harness,  he  spoke 
apologetically : 

"You  don't  think  I'm  a  coward,  do  you, 
Pokey, — runnin'  away  from  Dad?  I'll  tell 
you  the  truth:  I  don't  want  to  meet  him 
over  here  in  Kansas.  Sure  as  we  get  to 
gether,  something's  bound  to  happen  that'll 
make  Mam  feel  bad;  that's  all  I'm  thinkin' 
about.  It's  bound  to  come  some  time,  sure, 
unless  one  of  us  drops  off  beforehand.  I 
know  Dad.  He  won't  be  able  to  sleep  good 
until  he's  wiped  out  yesterday's  score.  On 
Mam's  account,  I'd  like  to  put  off  the  reck 
oning  as  long  as  I  can,  so's  to  give  somebody 
else  a  chance  to  get  him  before  I  do.  Be 
cause,  Pokey — "  He  paused  in  his  work  of 
buckling  the  harness  and  stood  confronting 


The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock   1 1 1 

me,  his  clenched  hands  uplifted,  his  boyish 
face  putting  on  the  guise  of  hard  inevitable 
vengeance,  blazing  with  passion.  "Listen 
here!  Just  so  sure  as  me  an'  him  runs 
across  each  other,  there  ain't  goin'  to  be  room 
enough  for  both  of  us.  I  hate  him ! — Lord 
God,  how  I  hate  him!"  Then  in  another 
moment  his  face  was  ashy-gray  when  the 
fire  of  passion  had  died  out.  "But  it'll  be 
hard  on  Mam,  won't  it?  Dear  little  old 
Mammy !  Just  for  her  sake,  I  wish  I  could 
help  myself.  But  I  can't.  So  I'm  going  to 
do  the  next  best  thing,  an'  shoot  quick." 

I  had  never  known  a  man  like  him. 
While  he  voiced  his  brutal  threat  with  so 
much  of  uncontrolled  and  uncontrollable 
fierce  anger,  I  own  that  I  was  afraid  of  him 
and  of  what  might  come  of  his  being  with 
us;  but  it  was  a  fear  which  did  not  outlive 
the  next  swift  change  in  his  mood, — a  re 
turn  to  his  usual  broad-smiling  good  nature. 

"Which  would  look  best  in  wings,  Pokey, 
— me  or  Dad  ?  It  would  take  a  big  pair  to 
hold  me  up,  wouldn't  it?  I  know  I'll  be 
scared  to  try  my  first  flop,  unless  I  get  a 
chance  to  go  off  somewheres  an'  take  a  few 


H2  Sons  of  Strength 

lessons  from  some  old  angel  that  knows 
how." 

In  our  little  company,  all  our  rules  of 
action  were  impromptu, — more  impulses 
than  rules.  We  had  full  confidence  in  one 
another,  and  mutual  confidence  is  always 
better  than  rule  of  law.  It  is  when  the 
members  of  a  society  lose  trust  in  one 
another  that  they  begin  to  make  hard  and 
fast  codes  of  law  to  take  the  place  of  trust 
fulness, — a  poor  exchange.  We  had  no 
formal  ways.  I  had  neglected  even  the 
primary  matter  of  making  McCulloch  ac 
quainted  with  Elizabeth  Archibald;  but  it 
was  an  omission  which  did  not  impede  ac 
quaintance,  after  all.  When  everything 
was  in  readiness  for  beginning  the  day's 
journey,  and  we  were  mounting  to  our  places 
in  the  wagons,  McCulloch  went  to  the  girl's 
side. 

"I've  been  looking  at  you,"  I  heard  him 
say  with  his  honest  impetuosity.  "I  want 
to  find  out  something.  Pokey,  over  there, 
says  you're  an  Ohio  Archibald.  So's  my 
Mammy.  Can  I  walk  with  you  a  little 
ways  ?" 

She  gave  ready  assent.     It  was  not  easy 


The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock   113 

to  offer  resistance  to  his  simplicity.  In  the 
fresh  clear  morning,  walking  was  a  luxury 
and  not  a  labour.  They  were  both  in  the 
humour  for  making  the  most  of  it,  and  soon 
left  our  slow-moving  wagons  behind.  As 
usual,  my  wagon  was  in  the  lead  of  the  train, 
and  as  I  drove  onward  I  found  a  dear  delight 
in  following  them  with  my  eyes  while  they 
walked, — McCulloch  moving,  despite  his 
size  and  heaviness,  with  the  step  of  some 
wild  animal,  free  of  the  weight  of  self  con 
sciousness;  Elizabeth,  with  her  lithe  grace, 
keeping  well  at  his  side.  I  did  not  hear  what 
they  said ;  but  I  knew  that  the  girl  was  well 
pleased,  for  I  heard  her  gentle  laugh  welling 
up  freely  more  than  once,  as  though  there 
was  nothing  to  hold  it  back.  I  knew  from 
my  own  experience  that  she  did  not  laugh  in 
that  manner  for  one  who  had  displeased  her. 
McCulloch  was  very  gallant; — but  perhaps 
I  wrong  him  in  saying  so,  for  his  manner 
was  nothing  more  than  the  unstudied  bear 
ing  of  a  natural  gentleman.  Now  and 
again  he  left  the  beaten  trail  to  gather  a 
bunch  of  brilliant  prairie  blossoms,  until  each 
carried  an  armload  of  the  wild  colours.  But 
by  degrees  he  grew  less  active,  and  contented 


114  Sons  of  Strength 

himself  with  marching  slowly  along  by  the 
girl's  side.  Their  walk  grew  so  slow  that 
the  wagons  overtook  them ;  then  McCulloch 
helped  his  companion  to  mount  to  her  place, 
and  when  that  was  done  he  climbed  to  his 
own  seat  at  my  side.  He  was  not  talkative, 
nor  did  his  face  show  its  accustomed  lively 
aspect.  He  lounged  forward,  his  arms 
crossed  upon  his  knees,  paying  no  heed  to 
me  until  I  thought  it  well  to  ask  what 
he  had  discovered.  He  aroused  himself 
with  an  effort,  as  though  his  thoughts  had  to 
travel  far  in  coming  back  to  me. 

"Eh?"  he  asked.  "Oh!  The  relation 
ship,  you  mean  ?  Dogged  if  I  know 
rightly.  I  ain't  figured  it  out  yet.  Niece 
of  somebody's  second  wife's  sister's  aunt ; — 
can  you  sense  those  durned  things?  She's 
kin,  all  right,  but  I  don't  know  just  exactly 
how  it  is.  You  see,  I  reckon  I  forgot  what 
we  were  talkin'  about,  before  we  got  it 
straightened  out.  I'm  always  a  good  deal 
apt  to  do  that.  All  I  know  is,  she's  some 
kind  of  kin  to  me."  Then  came  silence 
again,  overcast  with  that  same  far-off 
thoughtfulness.  At  last  he  sat  erect,  stretch- 


The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock   115 

ing  his  arms  aloft  and  shaking  his  head  as 
though  to  cast  off  a  spell  of  drowsiness. 

"Say,  young  fellow,"  he  said  with  a  broad 
candour ;  "I'm  glad  you  got  to  know  her  be 
fore  I  did.  That's  honest  true.  It's  saved 
me  a  heap  of  trouble,  an'  I  know  it."  He 
threw  his  big  arm  around  me  and  made  me 
sit  a  little  nearer  to  him.  "There's  no  use 
fightin'  against  it,  Mr.  Pokey;  you  an'  me'll 
have  to  stand  by  each  other.  I'm  lots 
fonder  of  you  than  I  was  before  I'd  talked 
with  your  sweetheart,  and  found  out  what 
she's  like.  I'd  like  to  be  pardners  with  a 
man  that's  got  sense  enough  to  pick  out  that 
kind  of  a  woman."  He  thrust  his  hand  into 
the  breast  of  his  shirt  and  drew  forth  a  small 
packet,  wrapped  in  brown  paper  and  tied 
securely  with  a  bit  of  string.  "That's 
money,"  he  said.  "It  belongs  to  me,  too. 
I  ain't  goin'  to  be  a  beggar :  I  can  pay  half, 
if  you're  willin'  to  take  me."  But  there  was 
no  need  for  him  to  show  his  money ;  he  had 
a  better  capital  than  that,  and  one  more  to 
my  liking,  though  to  be  sure  we  were  likely 
to  need  money  in  our  new  home.  We  were 
put  to  no  trouble  in  settling  the  terms  of  our 
alliance,  for  we  were  both  honest,  and  we 


1 1 6  Sons  of  Strength 

liked  one  another.  When  our  understand 
ing  had  been  made  perfect,  McCulloch 
breathed  a  deep  sigh  of  relief  and  satisfac 
tion. 

"I  hope  you  ain't  goin'  to  be  sorry, 
Pokey,"  he  said.  "You  won't  be,  neither, 
if  muscle  counts  for  anything ; — an'  I  reckon 
it  will,  when  it  comes  to  breakin'  prairie. 
I'm  an  old  hand  at  the  business."  He 
passed  his  hands  caressingly  over  the  muscles 
of  his  great  limbs  and  swelled  out  his  chest 
as  though  to  show  me  what  I  could  rely 
upon  in  him.  "I  ain't  able  to  do  much  with 
my  head,  pardner,when  it  comes  to  thinkin' ; 
but  I  know  a  few  things  about  Kansas,  an' 
about  Missouri,  too.  Unless  I'm  fooled, 
Missouri's  goin'  to  make  us  more  trouble 
than  Kansas  is.  But  say!"  he  burst  out 
after  a  moment ;  "I  ain't  sure  that  I'm  doin' 
just  right  by  you,  either.  There's  Dad. 
I've  got  no  business  makin'  you  run  that 
risk  with  me.  I  guess  I  better  keep  off  to 
myself  until  after  that  business  is  settled; 
don't  you?" 

"No,"  I  answered  very  willingly.  "If 
we're  partners  at  all,  we're  partners  in  every- 


The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock  117 

thing  that  befalls  us.  We'll  stand  by  each 
other,  McCulloch." 

He  laughed  delightedly,  and  hugged  me 
again  in  that  giant's  embrace.  "Good!"  he 
cried.  "I  hoped  you'd  say  that!  Now  I 
feel  all  right." 

After  two  days'  travel,  as  rapid  as  we 
could  make  it,  considering  our  horses'  good, 
we  came  to  that  brave-hearted  little  town 
that  was  for  so  many  as  the  shadow  of  a 
great  rock  in  a  weary  land.  Lawrence !  No 
Kansas  pioneer  is  disturbed  by  any  doubt  as 
to  what's  in  a  name.  Truly  that  was  a  name 
to  conjure  with,  a  name  to  be  loved,  a  name 
worthy  of  a  man's  best  thought  and  warmest 
heart's  blood. 

When  we  first  came  within  sight  of  the 
place,  on  a  morning  in  late  September,  our 
hearts  were  stirred  to  their  depths ;  for  there 
the  love  of  liberty  had  made  for  itself  an 
abiding  place  in  a  new  wilderness.  It  was 
a  beautiful  spot,  sheltered  by  low  hills,  with 
its  two  rivers  near  at  hand.  But  little  more 
than  a  year  before  our  coming,  the  first  hardy 
immigrants  had  pitched  their  tents  there, — 
very  few,  but  growing  in  numbers  with 
the  passing  of  the  weeks,  until  there  was  a 


1 1 8  Sons  of  Strength 

goodly  number  of  them  showing  fair  and 
white  in  the  clear  sunlight.  When  we  arrived, 
the  tents  were  in  a  minority  among  the  places 
of  abode;  there  were  other  dwellings,  to 
give  promise  of  permanence, — rude  struct 
ures  of  poles,  thatched  with  wild  grass,  and 
some  buildings  of  logs;  not  very  beautiful, 
save  as  the  mind  might  draw  thoughts  of 
beauty  from  the  spirit  which  hovered  over. 
Already  the  makers  of  this  little  city  had 
learned  that  they  would  not  be  suffered  to  dwell 
there  in  peace,  and  here  and  there  about  the 
borders  of  the  town  there  were  primitive 
earth-works  for  defense, — grim  assurance 
that  those  intrepid  souls  meant  to  fight  their 
way  to  peace  at  last.  When  we  knew  that 
we  were  at  last  entering  upon  the  stage 
where  we  were  to  play  our  part  with  kindred 
souls,  all  our  past  weary  doubt  and  suspense 
faded  away  before  the  dawn  of  live  resolu 
tion,  and  we  drove  forward  eagerly. 


CHAPTER  XI 

AN  OLD  FRIEND 

We  were  received  in  the  town  without 
idle  enthusiasm;  there  was  no  time  nor  in 
clination  for  any  sentimental  waste  of 
energy;  but  we  were  made  to  feel  at  home, 
and  were  given  a  place  where  we  might  pitch 
our  temporary  camp.  We  had  talked  of  our 
plans  quite  freely.  Some  of  our  party  had 
determined  that  they  would  remain  in 
Lawrence;  but  the  Ohio  folks,  and  Mc- 
Culloch  and  I  were  going  beyond,  into  the 
rich  farming  lands  that  lay  a  little  to  the 
westward. 

We  were  all  worn  and  weary  after  our 
long  journey.  The  day  of  our  arrival  in 
Lawrence  was  Saturday,  and  those  of  us 
who  were  not  yet  at  our  road's-end  decided 
that  we  should  rest  ourselves  in  the  town 
over  the  Sabbath  and  take  up  our  way  again 
on  Monday.  Since  leaving  Illinois  we  had 
been  altogether  deprived  of  any  regular 
rest  days,  by  whatever  name  they  might  be 


1 20  Sons  of  Strength 

called;  it  was  good  to  find  ourselves  in 'a 
friendly  settlement,  ruled  by  the  New  Eng 
land  conscience,  where  we  were  likely  to  be 
justified  by  our  surroundings  in  spending 
one  day  in  release  from  labour  and  weariness. 
And  it  was  to  be  a  notable  Sabbath  for  me, 
though  I  did  not  suspect  it  beforehand.  I 
know  not  how  it  may  be  with  others ;  but  all 
of  the  most  notable  things  of  my  life  have 
come  to  me  without  power  of  forecast  or 
forethought.  It  is  only  the  trivial  matters 
of  no  consequence  that  have  fallen  out  ac 
cording  to  my  own  prearrangement. 

I  had  begged  of  Elizabeth  on  Saturday 
evening  that  she  would  go  with  me  to 
church  on  the  Sabbath.  I  did  not  know 
what  there  might  be  in  a  sermon  of  prairie 
growth,  but  I  wanted  to  be  privileged  to  sit 
by  her  side  through  a  quiet  hour,  when  I 
should  have  nothing  to  do  save  to  turn  my 
eyes  to  her  face  once  in  a  while,  and  think  of 
her.  I  knew  that  I  should  profit  by  that. 
And  so  I  was  well  pleased  when  I  found 
that  there  was  to  be  an  out-door  service  in 
the  morning;  and  when  the  time  came,  and 
we  walked  together  toward  the  place  ap- 


An  Old  Friend  12! 

pointed  for  the  preaching,  I  was  a  happy 
man. 

I  do  not  remember  whether  there  were 
any  churches  built  at  that  time  among  the 
substantial  structures  of  logs.  I  had  found 
something  better  than  a  roofed  church  build 
ing,  however  pretentious  it  might  be. 
Within  the  past  week  there  had  come  to 
Lawrence  a  missionary  from  the  east, — an 
advance  agent  of  some  denominationalism, 
who  had  made  his  home  in  a  tent  until  he 
could  find  a  fitter  abiding  place.  His  tent 
was  in  the  midst  of  a  group  of  trees,  and  he 
had  promised  that  he  would  preach  to  those 
who  cared  to  come  and  sit  upon  the  grass 
before  his  tent  door.  The  thought  of  such 
a  thing  was  very  grateful  to  me,  for  my  re 
ligion  has  always  been  of  the  sort  that  seems 
to  thrive  best  out  of  doors.  I  was  not  sure 
but  that  this  might  prove  to  be  like  that  old 
sermon  preached  to  the  multitude  upon  the 
hillside. 

Never  was  there  a  more  beautiful 
sanctuary  than  that,  with  its  vaulted  sky- 
roof,  frescoed  by  the  graceful  branches  of 
the  elms  whose  stately  trunks  were  the  pillars 
of  the  long  wide  aisles.  Only  to  sit  upon  the 


122  Sons  of  Strength 

grass,  with  that  wild  free  beauty  all  around 
us,  and  listen  to  the  mighty  anthem  of  sum 
mer  sounds,  was  enough  to  put  us  in  wor 
shipful  mood.  I  thought  that  he  must  be 
a  poor  preacher  who  failed  to  preach  well 
there. 

Elizabeth  and  I  seated  ourselves  with  our 
backs  resting  against  the  column  of  a  tree- 
trunk  near  the  little  tent.  The  tent-curtains 
were  folded  back,  so  that  we  could  see  all 
that  was  within; — a  few  homely  utensils  of 
housekeeping,  a  trunk  and  a  low  cot  covered 
with  gray  blankets.  By  the  side  of  the  cot, 
his  back  turned  toward  us,  the  missionary 
knelt  praying.  He  made  much  show  of 
being  in  earnest  about  it,  for  he  held  his 
clasped  hands  before  him,  raising  them  some 
times  above  his  head  and  moving  his  body 
back  and  forth,  as  though  he  wrestled  with 
an  angel  unseen  by  our  eyes.  I  did  not  like 
that  very  well.  I  even  felt  a  little  ashamed 
for  him,  and  wished  that  he  had  kept  the 
curtains  closed  while  he  prayed;  though 
there  was  no  great  harm  in  his  way,  if  it 
pleased  him. 

He  remained  kneeling  for  quite  a  long 
time;  but  at  last  he  appeared  to  have  found 


An  Old  Friend  123 

what  he  sought,  for  his  movements  grew 
quieter  by  degrees,  and  his  praying  came  to 
an  end.  He  got  up  then,  dusting  the  knees 
of  his  black  trousers; — which  made  me 
smile,  in  spite  of  myself ;  it  was  so  sharp  and 
sudden  a  descent,  from  the  sublime  heights 
of  prayer  to  the  low  level  of  care  for  a  matter 
of  his  toilet.  He  picked  up  his  Bible,  and 
walked  to  the  door  of  his  tent,  where  he 
stood  facing  us,  letting  his  eyes  glance  over 
us  as  though  trying  to  make  up  his  mind  as 
to  what  we  were  and  how  he  should  match 
himself  to  us.  And  while  I  looked  at  him 
a  little  curiously,  trying  to  find  in  him  some 
appearances  which  would  justify  me  in  liking 
him,  I  felt  a  strange  tremor  of  weakness 
come  over  me,  though  I  sat  erect,  with  every 
muscle  and  nerve  drawn  straight  and  hard. 
Surely  I  knew  that  man !  Where  had  I  seen 
him,  and  who  might  he  be?  He  was  tall 
and  well  made,  though  he  had  none  of  the 
appearance  of  strength  that  follows  upon 
hard  work ;  his  was  more  the  likeness  of  one 
whose  habit  it  was  to  take  care  of  himself, 
avoiding  wear  and  tear.  His  hands  were 
like  his  body,  supple  and  well-modeled,  but 
not  toil-marked.  His  head  was  well  formed 


1 24  Sons  of  Strength 

and  confidently  poised,  his  forehead  broad 
and  unwrinkled.  His  face  was  clear  and  of 
good  features,  but  it  bore  no  marks  of  hard 
thought;  there  was  even  a  little  dimple 
showing  upon  either  smooth  cheek.  His 
whole  bearing  gave  assurance  that  he  got 
along  very  well  in  the  encounter  with  life. 
But  all  that  did  not  aid  me  much  in  resolving 
my  doubt  about  him,  though  it  all  seemed 
strangely  familiar.  To  look  at  him  was  like 
trying  to  remember  a  familiar  but  forgotten 
word, — a  tantalizing  trial.  But  in  a  mo 
ment  he  gave  me  help ;  for  as  his  eyes  glanced 
from  one  face  to  another  in  the  assemblage, 
at  last  they  rested  upon  mine.  They  were 
large  brown  eyes,  solemnly  wide  open.  I 
knew  him  then ;  he  was  Blinky  Meade ! 

When  I  knew  that  to  be  true  beyond  a 
doubt,  I  could  hardly  contain  myself;  I 
wanted  to  call  out  to  him,  or  shout  aloud  in 
my  joy.  I  thought  myself  blessed  in  seeing 
his  face  in  that  place,  and  all  of  my  old-time 
doubt  about  him  seemed  ridiculous  and 
wrong.  I  know  that  I  must  have  shown  my 
strong  feeling  of  pleasure,  for  as  he  looked 
down  into  my  face  a  frown  gathered  upon 
his  own  as  though  in  reproof  of  my  apparent 


An  Old  Friend  125 

levity.  I  could  see  that  he  did  not  know  me ; 
but  I  knew  him!  and  I  was  rejoiced  to  find 
him  there.  I  could  hardly  compel  myself 
to  be  quiet  and  to  wait  until  by  and  by,  when 
I  could  go  to  him.  I  was  so  full  of  this 
thought  that  I  gave  no  heed  to  the  beginning 
of  the  simple  service ;  not  until  he  began  his 
sermon  did  I  get  back  to  a  realization  of  the 
present  surroundings. 

When  he  began  to  speak,  it  seemed  to  me 
that  I  had  gone  back  through  the  long  lapse 
of  years  and  was  sitting  with  him  once  more 
under  the  maples  in  the  asylum  yard,  while 
he  entranced  me  as  of  old  with  his  magic 
tongue.  He  had  still  the  old  manner ;  no 
doubt  it  had  become  a  hard  and  fast  habit 
after  so  long  a  time  for  practice; — perhaps 
his  visions  were  real  to  him ;  even  as  a  child 
he  had  seemed  to  think  them  real.  Some 
men  are  so,  and  perhaps  I  wrong  him  in 
speaking  slightingly  of  his  wonder-tales, 
after  all.  As  he  stood  there  before  us  and 
talked  to  us,  it  was  not  with  sober  counsel  to 
give  us  strength  for  the  trials  near  at  hand ; 
he  spoke  of  unsubstantial  things,  as  though 
he  had  his  family  of  angels  standing  around 
him,  telling  him  dream-stories  which  might 


126  Sons  of  Strength 

not  be  heard  by  our  grosser  ears,  but  which 
he  was  interpreting  for  us.  Nor  was  that 
all :  I  found  by  and  by  that  his  family  had 
grown  somewhat  larger,  and  that  there  were 
a  few  evil  imps  added  to  it,  hiding  in  the 
dark  places  of  his  sermon,  waiting  to  pop  out 
their  heads  and  frighten  us.  I  do  not  believe 
that  they  were  there  by  his  own  choice;  he 
did  not  seem  to  love  them  as  he  loved  the 
fairer  creatures  of  his  fancy ;  he  treated  them 
as  though  they  were  unwelcome,  but  must 
be  given  a  courteous  consideration  notwith 
standing,  having  been  begotten  by  his  theo 
logical  training,  and  being  a  part  of  his  pro 
fessional  armament.  It  was  a  strange  ser 
mon, — as  strange  as  his  old  self,  and  as 
full  of  impracticable  unwisdom,  but  clothed 
in  such  splendour  that  one  was  apt  to  forget 
all  else  while  looking  on  at  the  brilliant 
spectacle.  But  I  could  not  avoid  measur 
ing  what  he  said  by  the  standard  of 
our  trying  time  and  surroundings ;  and  when 
I  did  that,  he  seemed  to  be  still  a  child  in 
thought,  amusing  himself  with  a  childish 
game  of  "make-believe."  I  feared  that  if 
I  looked  too  closely  at  his  beautiful  imagery, 
I  should  see  that  it  was  but  a  phantasm ;  and 


An  Old  Friend  127 

so  I  settled  back  upon  my  own  thoughts, 
while  I  waited  for  him  to  finish,  when  I  could 
grasp  his  hand  and  find  that  he  at  least  was 
not  an  illusion,  but  of  warm  flesh  and  blood. 

At  last  he  had  finished,  and  the  people 
loitered  around  beneath  the  trees,  talking 
together, — many  crowding  about  the  young 
orator,  praising  him  after  a  fashion  that 
brought  a  flush  of  pleasure  to  his  cheeks.  I 
could  not  wait  for  them  to  leave  him ;  I,  too 
pushed  forward  and  held  out  my  hand  to 
him 

"Blinky!"  I  cried;  "Blinky!  don't  you 
know  me?" 

I  had  hoped  to  see  him  pleased  by  being 
remembered,  and  by  hearing  once  again  the 
syllables  of  his  boyish  name ;  but  he  was  not. 
The  flush  that  praise  had  kindled  upon  his 
face  died  away  suddenly,  leaving  him  very 
pale,  and  his  brown  eyes  shone  with  quick 
resentment,  while  his  hand  grew  limp  in 
mine. 

"I  do  not  know  you,  sir,"  he  said  coldly.  I 
was  too  eager  to  reflect  that  he  might  not 
wish  to  know  me,  or  that  he  might  want  to 
leave  the  old  times  behind  him ;  I  was  anx 
ious  only  to  make  him  remember  me. 


128  Sons  of  Strength 

"Why,  Blinky!"  I  said  warmly;  "don't 
you  remember  Pokey  Up  jack?  Surely  you 
havn't  forgotten  the  days — "  But  he  put  a 
stop  to  my  impetuous  speech  by  linking  his 
arm  firmly  in  mine  and  dragging  me  forcibly 
with  him  into  his  tent.  He  pushed  me  into 
a  seat;  then  drew  the  tent-curtains  close, 
so  that  no  curious  eyes  might  spy  upon  us. 
He  did  not  sit  down,  but  stood  before  me, 
his  lips  set ;  then  he  paced  back  and  forth  for 
a  few  moments,  seeming  nervous.  Soon 
he  paused  and  stood  close  to  me,  looking 
down  into  my  face. 

"That  was  a  long  time  ago,"  he  said, 
speaking  in  such  low  tone  as  to  make  it  im 
possible  for  those  outside  to  hear.  "Since 
that  time  there  have  been  great  changes.  I 
am  the  Reverend  Arthur  Brooks."  He 
dropped  his  eyes  as  he  said  this,  becoming 
intent  upon  crushing  a  small  pebble  into  the 
earth  with  the  toe  of  his  polished  shoe. 

"Brooks!"  I  echoed,  wondering.  "Why 
Brooks,  Blinky?" 

"Brooks,  by  adoption,"  he  answered ;  "and 
by  choice  also.  I  did  not  wish  the  old  name 
to  cling  to  me,  or  to  rise  against  me  in  my 
new  life." 


An  Old  Friend  129 

"Had  you  dishonoured  it  then?"  I  could 
not  avoid  asking ;  nor  could  I  avoid  having  a 
little  of  scorn  in  my  question.  He  glanced 
quickly  at  me  before  he  answered. 

"No,"  he  said. 

"You  are  only  Blinky  Meade  to  me,"  I 
said,  "and  I  am  still  Pokey  Upjack.  I  hope 
we  shall  never  be  anything  else  to  one 
another  than  we  were  in  those  old  days,  boy." 
But  he  lifted  his  white  hand  with  a  gesture 
of  impatient  remonstrance. 

"Hush!"  he  commanded  harshly.  "Do 
you  want  them  to  hear  you  ?" 

I  felt  the  grateful  warmth  of  enthusiasm 
dying  down  within  me.  I  had  to  struggle 
with  myself  to  speak  calmly. 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  have  grown 
ashamed  of  that  time?" 

He  did  not  answer  at  once,  but  resumed 
his  nervous  walk,  while  he  formed  his  next 
speech.  "See  here!"  he  said  at  last;  "can 
you  understand  this?  I  have  made  a  place 
for  myself  in  the  world.  I  am  at  the  begin 
ning  of  an  honourable  career.  It  hasn't  been 
easy ;  I  have  had  to  fight  against  my  past,  as 
well  as  against  the  difficulties  of  the  under 
taking  itself.  But  I  have  won,  and  I  have 


130  Sons  of  Strength 

no  one  to  thank  for  it  but  myself.  People 
are  beginning  to  recognize  my  gifts,  as  I 
have  meant  that  they  should.  And  now — " 

"Well?"  I  asked  as  he  hesitated. 

"Well!"  he  flashed  in  return.  "I  have 
struggled  to  forget  that  I  was  ever  a  despised 
asylum  brat  and  outcast.  I  had  almost  suc 
ceeded.  My  present  honours  are  independent 
of  the  past.  I  don't  wish  to  be  reminded  of 
the  past.  I  hate  it.  If  you  persist  in 
recognizing  me,  I  hope  you  will  respect  my 
wish  and  call  me  by  the  new  name,  and  not 
the  old.  Do  you  understand  now  ?" 

I  hope  that  there  may  be  few  who  can 
appreciate  the  bitterness  of  that  moment.  It 
is  a  sad  thing  for  a  man  to  find  the  spirit 
of  manhood  so  dishonoured  and  the  truth 
disowned  by  one  whom  he  has  trusted  to  up 
hold  both.  I  hardly  dared  trust  myself  to 
speak  after  that;  but  speech  was  forced  out 
of  me  at  last. 

"If  I  recognize  you  at  all,  it  will  be  as 
Blinky  Meade.  You  must  understand  that." 
He  knotted  his  slender  fingers  together,  and 
I  saw  that  he  was  trembling  with  anger  as  he 
glared  down  upon  me. 

"Listen !"  he  said  by  and  by.     "What  are 


An  Old  Friend  1 3 1 

you  going  to  gain  by  that?  You  can  gain 
nothing, — nothing  from  me.  I  have  won 
position,  but  nothing  else  as  yet.  I  am  still 
a  poor  man — " 

I  sprang  to  my  feet  thrusting  my  hands 
into  my  pockets  and  clenching  them  there, 
so  that  I  might  not  raise  them  against  him. 
I  did  not  speak  to  him  again,  but  pushed  by 
him  and  passed  out  of  his  tent  and  into  the 
free  air. 

I  had  not  spoken  to  Elizabeth  of  Blinky. 
She  had  no  doubt  seen  what  had  passed  out 
side  the  tent,  and  when  I  rejoined  her  and 
walked  with  her  from  the  grounds,  her  clear 
eyes  asked  questions  of  me;  but  they  were 
questions  which  I  could  not  answer.  But  as 
I  looked  into  her  sweet  true  face,  I  found 
that  my  wound  was  not  mortal,  after  all, 
though  it  was  grievously  painful.  I  took 
her  hand  and  drew  it  through  my  arm. 
When  I  felt  its  gentle  pressure,  I  was  even 
able  to  laugh  a  little,  though  it  was  a  laugh 
which  might  better  have  been  left  out. 

"Elizabeth!"  I  said,  calling  her  by  her 
name  for  the  first  time.  "Dear  girl !  Noth 
ing  must  ever  come  between  us.  We  must 


132  Sons  of  Strength 

wear  no  masks  for  one  another.  Masks  have 
no  place  in  such  friendship  as  ours." 

Again  she  turned  her  eyes  to  mine;  and 
in  a  moment,  so  potent  was  their  spell,  all 
bitterness  faded  out  of  my  heart,  and  it  was 
possessed  by  a  strong  deep  peace. 


CHAPTER  XII 

HOME   MAKING 

WE  WERE  not  disposed  to  dally  upon  our 
way.  I  wished  with  all  my  heart  that  we 
had  not  stopped  in  the  town;  but  that  was 
beyond  remedy  now,  and  I  tried  to  forget 
what  had  happened,  forcing  myself  to  work 
with  vigour  in  getting  ready  for  our  home- 
building  upon  the  prairies. 

Of  those  who  were  going  onward,  all  had 
been  used  to  farming,  save  Elizabeth.  She 
chose  to  go  with  us,  however,  until  she  had 
learned  more  about  Kansas,  and  about  what 
she  had  to  expect.  We  were  all  able  to  adapt 
ourselves  to  whatever  might  seem  to  be  for 
the  best,  caring  but  little  what  it  was,  if  it 
gave  promise  of  good. 

When  we  were  out  of  the  town,  I  was 
glad  to  have  McCulloch  talk  to  me,  in  that 
honestly  irresponsible  fashion  of  his.  His 
counsels  were  divided  between  vagary  and 
common  sense,  so  that  in  listening  I  had  to 


1 34  Sons  of  Strength 

keep  my  wits  awake,  not  to  miss  the  good 
of  what  he  said. 

"We'll  stay  by  the  river,"  was  a  part  of 
his  argument.  "We  mustn't  get  far  from 
water;  nor  we  don't  want  to  get  too  far 
away  from  this  town,  neither.  It's  a  good 
thing  to  be  near  your  friends  when  you  need 
'em,  or  when  they  need  you?  Unless  I'm 
mistaken,  there'sgoin' to  be  a  heap  of  fightin' 
around  here.  It's  a  good  scheme  to  keep 
pretty  close  together.  The  folks  over  in 
Missouri  don't  like  this  town.  They've  said 
they're  goin'  to  wipe  it  out.  I  don't  believe 
they  will,  but  they'll  worry  us  a  good  bit,  be 
fore  we're  done  with  'em.  They're  born 
cowards,  like  my  Dad.  You  could  tell  he 
was  a  coward,  couldn't  you?  Nobody  but 
a  coward  would  hit  a  little  nigger  idiot  with 
a  rawhide.  The  rest  of  'em  are  pretty  much 
like  him.  They  have  to  do  their  fightin'  in 
bunches,  like  wolves.  Get  one  of  'em  by 
himself,  an'  he's  meek  as  a  lamb.  If  this 
town  puts  on  a  good  front,  and  won't  take 
no  back-talk,  it'll  come  out  all  right.  It 
don't  do  to  let  a  coward  see  you're  afraid  of 
him;  that's  liable  to  make  him  act  mean." 

Despite  his  lapses  into  childishness,  I  felt 


Home  Making  135 

quite  safe  in  relying  upon  him  in  selecting 
a  site  for  our  home.  This  he  picked  upon 
when  we  were  but  little  more  than  a  day's 
journey  from  the  town;  and  it  was  a  selec 
tion  which  had  the  approval  of  all  of  us.  The 
place  where  he  had  advised  the  erection  of 
our  buildings  was  a  wooded  knoll  close  to 
the  river,  where  all  the  materials  for  build 
ing  were  at  hand,  and  where  in  an  emer 
gency  we  should  have  protection  against 
being  surprised  by  enemies ;  while  the  lands 
that  we  were  to  cultivate  were  of  the  best, — 
free  of  timber,  and  lying  smooth  and  open 
to  the  sun,  so  that  we  should  be  put  to  no 
needless  labour  of  clearing. 

The  season  was  still  warm,  but  we  knew 
that  we  should  have  no  time  to  spare  in  pre 
paring  for  winter.  We  went  to  work  with 
willing  hands.  Here  again  McCulloch's 
counsels  prevailed. 

"We've  got  to  build  right.  There's  only 
one  right  way.  We  have  to  build  as  if  we 
expected  to  stay.  The  best  way  to  keep 
from  being  drove  off  is  to  fix  so  you  can  de 
fend  yourself.  Poles  and  grass  are  all  right 
for  weather,  but  they  won't  keep  off  a 


136  Sons  of  Strength 

Missouri  Blue  Lodge.  Logs  is  the  thing; 
—I'll  show  you." 

We  were  very  busy  and  very  happy  for 
many  days  thereafter,  McCulloch  the  busi 
est  and  happiest  of  all.  Although  he  would 
take  no  credit  to  himself,  we  must  have  fared 
poorly  without  him.  He  was  tireless  with 
axe  and  saw.  .  In  one  minute  I  would  think 
that  his  greatest  genius  lay  in  his  broad  back 
and  mighty  limbs;  in  the  next  minute  he 
would  surprise  me  with  some  well-planned 
device  which  showed  genius  to  lurk  within 
his  round  head  also. 

When  our  clearings  were  made  upon  the 
top  of  the  low  hill,  we  selected  strong  sound 
logs,  trimming  them  into  shape  and  match 
ing  them  as  well  as  we  were  able.  Then  we 
dug  trenches  in  the  form  of  the  outer  walls 
of  our  buildings,  paving  the  bottoms  of  the 
trenches  with  broad  flat  stones  from  the 
river-bed,  until  we  had  a  secure  foundation. 
Then  our  logs  were  set  upon  end  in  the 
trenches,  in  two  rows,  the  inner  row  cover 
ing  the  chinks  of  the  outer,  and  after  that  the 
earth  was  filled  into  the  trenches,  and  packed 
down  tightly.  When  the  walls  had  been 
plentifully  mud-plastered,  they  were  safe 


Home  Making  137 

and  secure,  proof  against  any  weather, — and 
better  still,  no  doubt,  proof  against  bullets, 
if  such  should  chance  to  come  our  way. 
Though  we  were  justifiably  proud  of  our 
work,  there  was  no  time  for  any  show  of 
pride.  From  lighter  and  slender  logs  we 
fashioned  the  roofs  of  our  buildings.  The 
roofs  were  also  plastered  with  mud,  mixed 
with  twigs  and  grasses  for  strength's  sake, 
and  over  all  was  placed  a  thatching  of  the 
rank  grass  stems,  woven  firmly  together, 
making  a  roof  that  would  stand  storms  or 
fire.  Nor  was  that  all : 

"If  there's  goin'  to  be  any  shootin'  done, 
we  want  to  have  a  hand  in  it,  don't  we?" 
McCulloch  suggested.  "We've  got  to  fix 
for  that,  pardners."  And  so  we  cut  small 
gun-ways  through  the  thick  walls,  not  large 
enough  to  be  dangerous  for  those  within, 
but  allowing  us  to  use  our  own  weapons  to 
ward  all  points  of  the  compass.  When  this 
work  was  finished,  it  was  doubtful  whether 
our  buildings  were  better  adapted  to  be 
abodes  of  peace  or  hatcheries  of  war.  I  was 
a  little  inclined  to  laugh  at  their  formidable 
aspect,  but  McCulloch  was  not  abashed. 

"Laugh,  of  course,  if  it  tickles  you,"  he 


138  Sons  of  Strength 

said  in  his  broad  good-nature.  "I'll  do  my 
laughing  by  and  by,  mebbe,  when  we  have 
to  stand  off  on^y^f  those  rowdy  outfits  from 
over  the  river,— twenty  or  thirty  against  us 
four.  How  do  you  think  you'd  feel  then, 
without  thick  walls  and  gun-ports?  Inside 
of  this  place,  when  we  get  the  doors  and 
windows  fixed  the  way  I'll  show  you,  we  can 
hold  our  own  against  as  many  as  can  get  on 
the  outside,  unless  they  bring  cannon. 
There's  lots  of  folks  that'll  be  sorry  they 
didn't  build  this  way;  you  mark  what  I  tell 
you." 

Barns  and  sheds  were  made,  too,  after 
the  same  substantial  pattern,  though  they 
were  less  warlike  in  purpose  and  appearance. 
When  all  was  done,  so  that  we  had  time  to 
look  about  us  and  think  of  what  had  been 
accomplished,  we  were  well  satisfied.  Our 
work  gave  assurance  that  we  had  come  to 
stay; — that  we  were  no  longer  aliens,  but 
entitled  to  the  honours  of  full  citizenship. 

While  the  hard  work  of  building  had  been 
going  forward,  we  had  lived  like  a  big  fam 
ily  ;  the  men  working  together,  helping  one 
another  as  need  arose,  and  the  two  women 
attending  to  the  out-door  kitchen  under  the 


Home  Making  139 

friendly  trees, — not  the  lightest  share  of 
work,  for  our  appetites  kept  pace  with  our 
labours,  and  sound  health  attended  upon  all. 
It  was  a  generous  life,  already  amply  re 
warded.  Each  one  of  us  learned  to  rely  more 
and  more  not  only  upon  himself,  but  upon 
the  others.  Labour  and  sacrifice  and  danger 
are  well  repaid  when  a  man  finds  that  he  can 
place  full  trust  in  his  fellows,  with  no  fear 
of  their  failing  him. 

As  the  days  passed  I  was  filled  with  sharp 
sorrow  for  that  first  speech  of  mine  to  Eliza 
beth  concerning  the  unwisdom  of  women 
taking  part  in  this  pilgrimage.  She  was  a 
hundred  times  stronger  and  braver  than  I; 
— not  alone  in  the  big  things,  but  in  the  little 
things  of  daily  trial,  which  are  the  real  trials 
after  all.  A  mountain  of  adversity  may 
beautify  a  life-landscape;  the  outlook  from 
its  summit  may  reveal  things  undreamed  of 
in  the  peaceful  valley.  Such  a  mountain  is 
no  hardship;  it  is  the  tiny  dust-grains  of 
trivial  worry  blown  into  our  eyes  which  test 
temper  and  endurance.  In  those  matters 
Elizabeth  showed  courage  sadly  wanting  in 
myself.  Gladly  would  I  have  undone  that 
harsh  speech  of  mine,  if  I  could;  but  I  had 


140  Sons  of  Strength 

to  content  myself  with  confession  of  its  in 
justice,  letting  her  see  that  I  was  truly  re 
pentant. 

And  thus,  while  we  worked,  the  weeks 
passed  and  winter  was  at  hand.  We  were 
quite  secluded  from  the  world  and  its  activi 
ties, — almost  castaways,  hearing  no  news, 
and  knowing  nothing  of  what  had  been 
happening.  We  were  not  far  from  Law 
rence,  to  be  sure,  but  our  claims  were  away 
from  the  main  trails,  and  we  saw  no  one. 
But  though  we  worked  in  outward  and 
undisturbed  quiet,  our  thoughts  were  not  at 
peace ;  nor  could  they  be  until  we  knew  what 
had  been  going  forward  in  the  territory  and 
in  the  nation.  Portentous  things  might  and 
must  have  happened.  But  preparations 
against  approaching  winter  seemed  the  great 
est  present  demand  upon  us :  news-gathering 
must  be  put.off. 

We  were  not  idly  curious.  Our  own  wel 
fare  hung  in  a  light  balance.  When  we  had 
entered  the  territory,  the  administration  of 
affairs  had  been  practically  lawless,  save  as 
the  settlers  chose  to  regard  the  principles  of 
natural  justice  and  equity;  and  no  one  cared 
to  venture  a  prediction  whether  that  would 


Home  Making  141 

continue,  once  the  thin  tissue  of  novelty  had 
been  worn  away,  leaving  the  threadbare  fab 
ric  of  dull  reality.  There  were  many  threats 
which  the  future  held  in  suspense.  It  might 
be  a  matter  of  but  a  short  time  until  force 
would  rule  us ;  for  in  the  judgment  of  many 
in  such  troubled  times,  force  is  considered 
more  feasible  than  equity.  In  McCulloch's 
forecast  of  events,  force  and  violence  were  to 
be  the  mace  and  scepter  of  our  enemies  of 
the  Blue  Lodges. 

But  at  last  our  work  was  done.  We  had 
built  well,  and  the  rigours  of  severest  winter 
could  visit  no  surprise  upon  us.  We  were 
safe,  secure  and  comfortable,  save  that  our 
great  appetites  had  made  sad  inroads  upon 
our  store  of  provisions,  which  must  be  re 
plenished  ere  winter  enclosed  us.  But  that 
was  cause  for  no  anxiety,  for  the  roads  were 
still  open,  and  the  weather  milder  than  we 
had  expected,  though  December  was  upon 
us.  We  determined  then  that  our  need  for 
food,  added  to  our  need  for  news,  should 
prompt  a  trip  to  Lawrence  with  one  of  our 
wagons. 

McCulloch  was  eager  to  go; — an  eager 
ness  which  I  at  first  laid  to  the  charge  of  his 


142  Sons  of  Strength 

boyish  spirit  of  impatience  with  monotony 
and  his  love  of  exciting  change;  but  I  was 
not  long  in  seeing  that  I  wronged  him  in 
that,  as  I  had  already  wronged  him  in  so 
many  ways  when  I  had  judged  him  by  first 
appearances.  While  we  were  discussing 
plans,  he  made  occasion  to  speak  with  me 
apart. 

"Look  here,  Pokey;  you've  got  to  let  me 
go.  Look  at  it  sensible,  can't  you  ?  We've 
been  here  two  months,  an'  how  do  you  know 
what's  happened?  A  wagon  may  have  a 
hot  time  getting  to  Lawrence  an'  back.  It 
looks  to  me  like  it'd  be  foolish  to  send  one  of 
you  fellows  in,  that  don't  know  the  country 
like  I  do.  The  safest  way  is  goin'  to  be  to 
keep  away  from  the  trails,  and  go  across 
country,  until  I  can  find  out  about  things.  I 
ain't  scared,  understand, — don't  you  never 
think  that;  but  I  ain't  goin'  to  risk  losin' 
horses  an'  wagon,  that's  all.  I  tell  you  I've 
got  to  go." 

"Well,"  I  said ;  "but  you  must  take  some 
one  with  you.  We'll  go  together ;  or  you  can 
take  one  of  the  other  men,  if  that  suits  you 
better." 

He  shook  his  head  strongly.     "No,"  he 


Home  Making  143 

answered.  "One  man's  as  good  as  two; — 
better,  because  we've  only  got  four  alto 
gether.  I  can  make  it  alone,  if  anybody 
can.  I  ain't  braggin'  now,  Pokey ;  I'm  only 
talkin'  sense.  You  can  trust  me,  can't 
you?" 

Trust  him!  He  was  so  much  in  earnest 
that  there  was  no  room  for  doubt.  While 
he  was  in  that  mood  I  would  have  relied 
upon  him  to  drive  his  wagon  around  the 
world,  if  need  required. 

"Well,"  he  said,  when  he  saw  my  re 
sistance  evaporating,  "then  that's  settled,  is 
it?  You  fix  it  with  the  others,  an'  I'll  pull 
out  in  the  morning." 

And  thus  it  was  arranged,  without  strong 
demur  upon  the  part  of  any  one.  When  he 
had  promised  to  carry  the  matter  through, 
we  did  not  doubt  that  he  would  do  it,  and 
gave  ourselves  to  aiding  him  in  preparation 
for  his  going. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A  NEW  ELEMENT 

THROUGH  our  weeks  of  labour  I  had  had 
no  time  for  thought.  I  had  been  wholly 
lost  and  abandoned  in  the  need  and  duty  of 
each  present  moment.  Though  work  was 
sweet  to  us,  it  had  been  very  hard.  All  day 
long  our  muscles  strained  to  their  uttermost 
with  the  heavy  logs,  so  that  we  were  worn 
and  beaten  into  weariness,  with  tired  senses 
longing  for  nightfall,  when  we  could  sleep 
the  deep  sleep  of  utter  exhaustion.  But 
on  this  night,  when  I  had  done  with 
helping  McCulloch,  and  all  was  in  readi 
ness  for  the  morning,  I  wrapped  myself 
warmly  for  protection  against  the  chill 
of  the  night,  and  sat  down  upon  the 
rude  bench  that  we  had  built  at  the  front  of 
our  house.  There  were  some  practical  con 
cerns  that  must  have  thoughtful  attention, — 
concerns  of  dollars  and  acres.  And  I  began 
very  well;  but  soon,  without  knowing  how 


A  New  Element  145 

it  came  about,  without  caring  why,  I  was 
deep  in  thought  of  Elizabeth. 

I  loved  her;  so  much  I  knew  with  a  cer 
tainty  that  shamed  the  security  of  all  my 
other  knowledge,  save  the  knowledge  that 
she  was  worthy  of  a  love  based  upon  the 
best  of  all  that  is  good  in  manhood.  The 
love  that  a  man  cherishes  for  a  true  and  pure 
woman  becomes  very  strange  and  wonderful 
to  him,  when  he  thinks  of  it  calmly.  He 
may  not  say  surely  when  it  had  its  birth,  any 
more  than  he  may  date  his  other  thoughts; 
he  may  only  say  that  it  has  become  a  part  of 
himself,  and  that  he  cannot  put  it  away  from 
him.  When  I  tried  on  that  night  to  find  my 
way  back  to  the  time  when  love  began,  I 
could  not  do  it;  it  seemed  older  than  mem 
ory, — as  though  from  the  first  my  life  had 
been  in  some  mysterious  way  directed  and 
shaped  toward  the  time  when  I  should  love 
this  girl.  There  had  been  small  chance  of 
late  for  talking  with  her,  or  for  seeing  her 
alone ;  there  was  no  need  for  that,  for  speech 
is  but  a  sorry  means  to  such  an  end  as  love. 
I  did  not  know, — I  dared  not  try  to  think 
what  would  come  of  it.  Until  that  night  I 
had  hardly  dared  make  clear  confession  even 


146  Sons  of  Strength 

to  my  own  heart  that  I  loved  her ;  but  then, 
when  I  would  have  told  myself  that  it  was 
true,  I  saw  that  there  was  no  need  for  that, 
either.  There  was  no  need  for  anything 
beyond  making  surrender  of  myself  to  the 
certainty  that  love  possessed  me,  and  that 
the  wild  wide  night  was  witness  to  the  truth. 

And  then,  when  I  had  found  that  out,  and 
was  trying  to  grow  accustomed  to  the  won 
der  of  it  all,  I  was  quite  lost  to  everything 
else.  I  must  have  sat  in  that  way  for  a  long 
time,  thinking  of  my  beloved  and  comforting 
myself  with  little  tricks  of  fancy, — dwelling 
upon  her  sweetness  and  gentleness,  the  calm 
beauty  of  her  eyes,  and  the  soft  loveliness  of 
her  voice,  as  a  man  will.  Then  all  at  once 
like  a  dream  within  a  dream,  I  heard  her 
voice  quite  near  me,  and  when  I  had  aroused 
myself  somewhat  I  could  see  in  the  deep 
twilight  that  she  and  McCulloch  stood  to 
gether  only  a  few  steps  away.  I  was  so  star 
tled  by  the  sudden  awakening  that  I  did  not 
think  of  moving,  but  sat  still  where  I  was 
and  heard  what  they  said. 

"So  you  are  to  be  the  one  to  go?"  she 
asked. 

"Yes,  I'm  goin,' "  he  answered  lightly. 


A  New  Element  147 

"I'm  glad  I  run  acrost  you,  too.  I  wanted 
to  see  you  before  I  got  away.  I  was  goin' 
to  ask  you  to  let  me  do  something  for  you 
in  the  town." 

"Something  for  me?"  she  repeated. 
"What  is  it?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  care  what.  Anything  you 
think  about.  I'd  like  to  do  something  for 
you ;  that's  all." 

She  laughed  gaily, — a  little  ripple  of  de 
lighted  enjoyment  of  his  frank  gallantry. 
She  was  never  under  constraint  when  she 
talked  with  him,  and  he  seemed  always  to 
like  that  way.  But  this  time  he  did  not 
laugh  with  her. 

"Say,  I  ain't  jokin',"  he  urged;  and  I 
knew  that  he  spoke  the  truth,  for  his  voice 
carried  the  deep  resonant  note  which  I  had 
grown  to  love  so  well.  "I  mean  just  what  I 
say,  Eliz'beth;  I  want  to  do  somethin'  for 
you,  an'  I  want  you  to  tell  me  to  do  it." 

"Forgive  me,"  she  said  gently;  "I  didn't 
mean  to  be  rude." 

"You  couldn't,"  he  answered.  "'Tain't 
in  you,  like  'tis  in  other  folks.  You're 
different  from  everybody  else  I  know,  ex- 


148  Sons  of  Strength 

cept  Mam.  Mam's  the  only  one  I  ever  saw 
that  I  like  better  than  I  like  you." 

She  made  no  answer  to  that;  and  when 
McCulloch  spoke  again,  it  was  with  an  ef 
fort  at  lighter  manner.  "That  ain't  what  I 
was  goin'  to  say.  But  I  ain't  sorry  I  said  it, 
you  know.  You've  just  got  to  tell  me  to  do 
somethin'  for  you,  an'  I  won't  quit  botherin' 
you  till  you  do." 

"You  can't  please  me  in  any  way  any 
better  than  by  bringing  yourself  safely  back 
to  us,"  she  said  in  the  same  gentle  way.  I 
heard  that  his  breath  was  sharply  indrawn, 
after  the  manner  of  one  who  suffers  a  shock 
of  cold,  and  his  answer  was  quite  as  sharp : 

"Oh,  Lord !  What's  the  use  sayin'  things 
like  that?" 

"Why  shouldn't  I  say  it?"  she  asked  sim 
ply;  "don't  you  think  it's  true?" 

"Eliz'beth!"  he  cried  in  a  voice  which 
I  did  not  know  as  his,  so  hard  and  strained 
it  was.  "What  you  think  I'm  made  of?" 
He  was  bravely  struggling  for  control.  "I 
wish  you'd  go  away!"  he  burst  forth  at 
last;  "I  can't.  'Tain't  in  me  to  run  away 
from  anything;  not  even  this." 

No  doubt  the  poor  girl  was  startled  by 


A  New  Element  149 

such  strange  speech.  She  turned  without  a 
word,  and  would  have  left  him,  but  he  called 
to  her  impetuously:  "Eliz'beth!  wait  a 
minute!"  He  stepped  to  her  side,  then 
spoke  more  quietly,  as  though  for  reas 
surance  :  "You  don't  need  to  be  scared.  I 
wasn't  goin'  to  say  much : — yes,  I  was,  too ; 
but  not  to  scare  you.  I  was  goin'  to  say  a 
heap.  Oh,  Eliz'beth,  listen !"  And  though 
he  seemed  quite  himself  again,  his  voice  was 
of  fathomless  depth.  "I  don't  know  for  the 
life  of  me  which  is  most  like  a  coward, — to 
talk,  or  to  keep  still.  I've  got  to  talk,  I 
reckon,  whether  I  want  to  or  not.  I  ain't 
sure  a  man's  got  any  business  to  keep  still, 
not  if  he's  honest,  when  he — when  he — feels 
like  I  do  about  you." 

Why  it  was  I  cannot  say;  but  my  heart 
held  no  fear  while  I  listened,  but  only  sor 
row  and  pity,  and  the  wish  to  comfort  him ; 
for  I  thought  that  he  must  feel  quite 
wretched  and  hopeless.  And  I  felt  pity  for 
the  girl,  too,  in  the  face  of  such  rude  way  of 
speaking  as  his.  Most  people  at  such  times 
find  refuge  and  protection  behind  light 
breastworks  of  words ;  but  there  was  no  such 
refuge  for  him,  who  knew  nothing  of  for- 


150  Sons  of  Strength 

mality  or  subterfuge.  He  had  to  speak  the 
plain  truth  in  a  plain  way,  if  he  spoke  at  all. 

"Archy,  what  is  it?"  she  asked  softly. 
"Have  I  done  anything  to  hurt  you?" 

"You !"  he  cried  with  a  short  laugh.  Then 
he  suddenly  struck  his  open  hands  together, 
and  held  them  locked  fast.  "Oh !"  he  cried 
passionately;  "I  wish  I  was  different!  I 
wish  I  was  a  man, — the  kind  of  a  man  Pokey 
is !  You  love  Pokey,  don't  you  ?" 

"Archy !  Hush !"  she  cried  in  sharp  pain, 
and  I  felt  my  face  flushing  hot.  For  very 
sharr\e  I  wished  myself  away ;  but  I  feared  to 
move.  I  could  do  nothing  but  sit  still  where 
I  was  and  wait  for  what  came  next. 

"I  can't  hush,"  he  said.  "I've  got  to  talk. 
Tell  the  wind  to  hush,  an'  mebbe  it  would ;  I 
can't.  'Tain't  goin'  to  do  you  no  hurt,  an' 
it's  goin'  to  do  me  a  heap  of  good  to  tell  you 
just  this  once,  honest,  I  love  you.  There !" 
he  cried,  when  in  voluntarily  she  shrunk  away 
from  him.  "There !  that's  all.  I  ain't  ever 
goin'  to  say  it  again ;  don't  you  be  afraid.  I 
had  to  tell  you.  An'  now  you're  told,  so 
you  can't  ever  forget,  not  if  you  tried.  You 
ain't  one  of  the  kind  that  forgets  such 
things."  There  came  a  throbbing  pause 


A  New  Element  151 

then,  which  must  have  seemed  to  him  like  a 
reproof,  for  when  he  spoke  again  it  was  in  a 
tone  of  pleading  apology.  "That  ain't  so 
bad,  is  it?  I  hoped  you  wouldn't  feel  bad 
about  it.  When  even  a  dog  loves  you,  you 
like  to  know  it,  don't  you?  I  do." 

She  gave  a  sharp  inarticulate  cry  of  pro 
test,  and  I  saw  that  she  grasped  at  his 
clenched  hands,  holding  them  fast  in  her 
own.  "Oh,  Archy!  Don't !"  she  breathed. 
Upon  sudden  impulse  she  lifted  one  of  his 
great  hands  to  her  lips,  then  laid  her  cheek 
against  it.  But  he  pulled  his  hand  away, 
trying  to  laugh, — a  feeble  little  laugh  that 
died  in  birth. 

"Lord  A'mighty!"  he  sighed  almost  in- 
audibly.  "This  here  ain't  no  place  for  me. 
I'd  better  be  greasin'  my  harness.  You  trot 
along,  Eliz'beth,  an'  go  to  bed.  It's  time 
you  was  asleep.  I  ain't  goin'  to  talk  to  you 
no  more." 

"Archy!"  she  said  again,  oh  so  gently. 
"Dear  Archy,  if  I  could  only  say — " 

His  laugh  was  stronger  and  braver  then. 
"Don't  you  say  it,  old  lady.  What's  the 
use?  You  ought  to  have  more  sense. 
Shucks!  I  oughtn't  to  have  worried  you; 


152  Sons  of  Strength 

but  seemed  like  I  couldn't  help  it.  Look 
here;  you  mustn't  feel  that  way  about  it. 
You  an'  me's  got  to  be  good  friends ;  that's 
all.  Don't  you  ever  dare  forget  that." 

All  fear  had  left  her.  She  stood  close  to 
him,  lifting  her  hands  to  lay  them  upon  his 
broad  shoulders,  while  her  face  was  turned 
to  his.  But  he  held  his  head  erect,  standing 
straight  and  firm  as  the  strongest  tree  in  the 
woodland  beyond,  his  hands  folded  together 
at  his  back. 

"Say,"  he  said  slowly;  "there's  one  thing 
needs  straightening  yet.  You  mustn't 
think  I  ain't  bein'  fair  with  Pokey.  Him  an' 
me's  pardners.  I  love  Pokey,  an'  so  do  you, 
don't  you?" 

But  at  that  she  turned  quickly  away  and 
left  him.  He  made  no  attempt  to  follow 
her,  nor  did  he  try  to  speak  again.  He 
stood  without  moving  until  she  had  passed 
from  sight  into  the  deep  night  shadows, — 
until  the  sounds  of  her  footsteps  had  died 
away, — until  she  opened  the  door  of  her 
home,  letting  a  beam  of  light  flash  out  into 
the  night,  to  reveal  her  form  for  an  instant 
before  she  vanished,  closing  the  door  after 
her.  Still  he  stood  motionless,  while  my 


A  New  Element  153 

heart  measured  many  slow  seconds.  I 
longed  to  go  to  him,  but  a  weight  of  irreso 
lution  was  upon  me.  Suddenly  he  raised 
his  arms  above  his  head,  holding  them  out 
stretched  to  the  sky,  and  turning  his  face  up 
ward,  so  that  it  showed  haggard  and  pale  in 
the  wan  starlight. 

"Oh!"  he  groaned.  "Why  ain't  I  dif 
ferent!"  But  that  did  not  last.  In  a 
moment  he  recovered  himself  and  walked 
slowly  away  toward  the  stables  at  the  back 
of  the  clearing.  Though  I  lay  awake  for 
a  long  time  in  my  bed,  he  did  not  come  into 
the  house.  I  thought  of  him  at  first,  and 
my  thoughts  were  full  of  wonder  and  com 
passion;  but  I  was  thinking  of  Elizabeth 
when  at  last  I  fell  asleep,  and  my  fitful 
dreams  were  of  her,  not  of  him. 

Before  dawn  of  the  chill  morning  I  was 
aroused  by  the  gentle  weight  of  his  hand 
upon  my  shoulder,  and  by  the  flare  and 
flicker  of  a  candle  he  carried.  He  was  al 
ready  dressed,  and  when  I  started  up  in  bed 
I  saw  that  his  own  bed  had  been  undisturbed 
through  the  night.  His  eyes  were  sunken 
and  his  face  pale  and  worn,  but  he  spoke  in 
his  usual  cheery  manner: 


1 54  Sons  of  Strength 

"How  you  do  sleep!  I've  made  noise 
enough  here  to  wake  up  old  Adam.  Break 
fast's  nearly  ready;  you  better  get  dressed 
quick.  I  want  to  start  early,  so  as  to  go  as 
far  as  I  can  before  folks  begin  to  travel." 

A  bright  fire  was  blazing  in  our  wide  fire 
place  in  the  outer  room.  Water  was  sing 
ing  in  the  kettle,  and  the  cabin  was  filled 
with  the  grateful  scent  and  sound  of  frying 
bacon.  With  the  aid  of  plenty  of  cold  water 
I  was  soon  awake,  and  I  dressed  rapidly. 
Our  simple  breakfast  was  awaiting  me.  Mc- 
Culloch  was  already  in  his  place,  drinking 
strong  black  coffee  with  much  apparent  rel 
ish. 

"That's  the  stuff  to  wake  a  body  up !"  he 
said  when  his  tin  pint-cup  was  emptied.  The 
hand  that  lifted  the  steaming  pot  to  refill  his 
cup  was  trembling.  He  ate  nothing,  though 
I  urged  his  need  for  fortifying  himself  for 
the  cold  journey. 

"Too  early,"  he  said  briefly.  "Don't  you 
worry;  I'll  take  a  little  snack  with  me,  to 
eat  by  and  by,  and  I'll  cook  something  hot 
at  noon.  I'll  be  in  Lawrence  some  time  to 
night,  you  know." 

After  that,  though  we  made  determined 


A  New  Element  155 

efforts  to  talk  of  the  affairs  before  us,  we 
bungled  sadly.  I  saw  that  he  was  very  tired ; 
and  my  own  thoughts  would  go  wandering 
in  unfamiliar  places,  where  speech  dared  not 
follow.  Soon  he  pushed  his  chair  away 
from  the  table  and  began  buttoning  his 
heavy  coat  around  him. 

"Don't  hurry,"  he  said.  "There's  no 
need  for  you  to  go  out  yet.  I've  got  the 
horses  fed,  an'  the  harness  on  'em,  all  ready 
to  put  'em  in  the  wagon.  You  sit  still  an' 
eat."  But  I  arose  and  went  with  him  to  the 
stable,  and  together  we  attended  to  the  few 
last  details.  When  everything  was  ready, 
he  stood  beside  me  for  a  moment,  holding 
his  lantern  aloft  so  that  its  light  fell  full 
upon  my  face.  He  laid  his  free  arm  over 
my  shoulders,  holding  me  against  his  breast 
in  his  impulsive  caressing  way,  and  laughing 
lightly. 

"Good-by,  Pardner  Pokey,"  he  said. 
"Now  don't  you  get  uneasy.  You  know 
there  ain't  nothin'  to  worry  about,  only  it's 
a  good  thing  not  to  risk  being  surprised. 
I've  got  my  rifle  an'  a  couple  of  pistols 
handy,  under  the  hay  in  the  bottom  of  the 
wagon.  They  won't  catch  me  asleep.  I 


156  Sons  of  Strength 

ought  to  be  back  in  four  days,  anyway ;  tut 
don't  you  get  scared  if  I  don't  come  for  a 
day  or  two  more.  I  may  want  to  drive  a 
good  ways  off  the  trail,  if  I  find  it's  safer. 
Good-by;  an'  tell  the  rest  of  'em  good-by 
forme,  will  you?" 

He  lowered  his  lantern  and  stood  for  a 
little  time  in  silence,  patting  my  shoulder 
gently  with  his  heavy  hand.  I  dreaded  that 
he  would  speak  of  Elizabeth;  but  if  he 
thought  of  it  at  all,  he  gave  it  up. 

"Good-by,"  he  called  again  from  his  seat ; 
and  then  the  wagon  passed  away  into  the 
shadows,  and  became  one  with  them. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

TO   ARMS 

ALTHOUGH  our  hardest  work  was  done, 
there  were  still  many  little  things  to  claim 
us.  We  had  made  up  our  minds  that  if  we 
would  deserve  success  in  our  new  life,  no 
moment  of  daylight  should  find  us  idle,  and 
we  all  worked  with  a  will  at  those  odds  and 
ends  which  lie  ever  ready  to  the  hand  of  the 
farmer,  in  all  seasons.  I  had  thought  that 
I  should  miss  McCulloch  in  his  absence ;  but 
I  found  the  day  passing  very  quickly,  with 
both  muscle  and  mind  so  busy. 

In  the  dull  gray  mid-afternoon,  while  I 
worked  upon  our  pile  of  firewood, — swing 
ing  my  axe  with  a  lusty  willingness,  to  keep 
off  the  cold,  I  was  all  at  once  startled  by  a 
far-off  shout,  rising  again  and  again  with 
much  urgency.  When  I  straightened  my 
self  and  looked  around,  I  saw  a  horse  flying 
toward  the  clearing,  across  the  open  prairie, 
a  man  mounted  upon  its  back,  swinging 
his  arms  over  his  head  wildly,  and  shout- 


158  Sons  of  Strength 

ing.  He  was  not  long  in  coming  so 
near  that  I  could  see  it  was  McCulloch, 
and  that  he  was  riding  one  of  the  horses 
taken  from  the  wagon.  A  part  of  the  beast's 
harness  was  still  upon  it,  the  loosened  ends 
of  the  straps  flyng  and  flapping,  and  the  ani 
mal's  breath  made  quick  little  puffs  of  white 
vapour.  It  ran  with  the  short  uneven  gait 
of  an  animal  far  spent.  McCulloch  was  a 
sore  burden  for  the  strongest  horse  in  a  gal 
lop  over  wild  prairie. 

McCulloch  sat  in  his  seat  like  one  half- 
drunk,  swaying  from  side  to  side.  He  kept 
no  hold  of  rein,  but  was  using  both  freed 
arms  to  emphasize  and  point  his  shouting. 
His  hat  was  gone,  and  his  outer  coat  was 
spread  beneath  him  for  a  saddle.  I  was 
deeply  alarmed,  though  his  shouts  seemed 
exultant.  But  suspense  was  not  long  con 
tinued,  for  with  his  booted  feet  McCulloch 
was  urging  the  poor  beast  to  do  its  best,  and 
he  soon  drew  so  near  that  he  could  call  to  me 
articulately. 

"Glory,  glory,  glory!"  he  roared.  "Hell's 
popped  wide  open,  Pardner, — it  has,  sure! 
We're  goin'  to  have  some  fightin'  at  last!" 

His  face  was  radiant.     He  threw  himself 


To  Arms  159 

to  the  ground,  staggering  against  me  breath 
lessly,  and  hugging  me  tight  in  his  mighty 
arms. 

"What  is  it  you  say?"  I  cried.  "Let  go 
of  me,  Archy,  and  talk  like  a  sane  man." 

"Oh,  it's  true !"  he  gasped,  capering  about 
like  a  pleased  child,  with  me  in  his  arms.  My 
strength  was  of  no  use  against  his,  while  he 
chose  to  hold  me.  "I  found  out  from  a  fel 
low  that's  riding  across  to  stir  up  some  Free 
Soilers  above  here.  Every  man  that  can 
carry  a  gun's  wanted  in  Lawrence  right  off! 
Oh,  I  ain't  foolin'!  We'll  have  a  Glory 
Hallelujah  time,  Pokey,  you  an'  me.  I 
swear,  it  makes  me  glad  I'm  alive,  just  to 
think  about  it !" 

"But,  Archy !"  I  persisted,  getting  clear  of 
his  embrace  at  last,  and  grasping  his  wrists 
firmly.  "Tell  me  what  you  mean,  man! 
What  is  it?" 

He  motioned  that  I  should  follow,  and 
strode  into  our  house,  where  he  threw  him 
self  down  upon  his  bed,  stretching  out  his 
arms  and  legs  in  an  excess  of  complete 
weariness,  his  broad  chest  heaving  as  he 
strove  to  regain  his  spent  breath. 

"Oh !"  he  cried  again,  as  though  that  was 


160  Sons  of  Strength 

all  he  could  say.  He  lay  there,  panting, 
and  laughing  foolishly  sometimes,  until  he 
had  recovered  his  senses  and  his  breath  to 
gether.  Then  he  sat  upright  upon  the  bed's 
edge,  his  broad  face  flushing  with  excite 
ment  while  he  talked. 

"Pokey,  Pokey !  but  the  things  that  have 
happened  since  we've  been  shut  up  in  here! 
You  don't  know !  It's  the  Blue  Lodges  again 
that's  doin'  it.  They  hate  Lawrence  like 
they  hate  the  devil; — worse,  because  the 
devil's  a  friend  of  their'n.  They've  just 
been  waitin'  their  chance,  an'  now  they  think 
it's  come.-  Old  Goliah  thought  so,  too, 
didn't  he  ?  that  time  when  he  run  up  against 
David.  That's  the  kind  of  a  time  we're 
goin'  to  have.  Oh,  it'll  be  splendid !" 

"Archy!"  I  demanded;  "what  are  you 
talking  of?  Have  you  gone  altogether 
daft?" 

"Yes!"  he  shouted  exultantly.  "Plum 
wild  crazy ;  that's  what  I  am !  You  would 
be,  too,  if  you  only  knew."  He  bounced  up 
from  his  seat  upon  the  bed  and  ran  to  me, 
giving  me  another  fierce  hug.  "Look  here, 
now,"  he  said,  with  a  determined  effort  to 
be  rational  and  coherent:  "there's  goin'  to 


To  Arms  161 

be  real  fightin',  down  to  Lawrence.  There 
was  some  folks  got  mixed  up  in  a  murder, 
and  the  sheriff  had  a  Free  Soil  prisoner, 
takin'  him  down  to  Lecompton,  makin'  his 
brags  about  what  they  was  goin'  to  do.  But 
the  prisoner  was  stole  away  from  Mr.  Sher 
iff,  an'  taken  down  to  Lawrence.  That's 
what's  made  the  trouble.  The  sheriff  called 
on  the  governor  for  militia  to  help.  Militia ! 
In  Kansas!  Ain't  that  rich?  We  know 
where  the  'militia's'  comin'  from,  an'  so  do 
the  Lawrence  folks,  an'  they  ain't  goin'  to 
stand  it.  There's  a  thousand  'militia'  camped 
down  to  Franklin  right  now,  an'  more 
comin'.  That  messenger  told  me  they're 
comin'  fixed  to  fight,  too.  They've  got  two 
cannon,  an'  they've  stole  all  kinds  of  arms 
from  an  arsenal.  With  the  most  the  Free 
Soilers  can  get  together,  the  Blue  Lodges'll 
have  three  to  one.  I  wish  it  was  six  to  one ; 
that'd  be  just  about  right  to  give  us  a  good 
fight.  Oh,  Pokey,  Pokey !  It's  great!" 

He  could  not  tell  much  more  than  that, 
though  the  others  of  our  party  gathered  in 
our  house  and  plied  him  with  questions ;  he 
could  only  urge  upon  us  that  we  be  prompt 
in  getting  ready  to  go  to  the  aid  of  the  be- 


162  Sons  of  Strength 

sieged  town ;  and  we  soon  put  curiosity  away 
from  us  and  began  to  form  our  preparations. 
There  was  no  whisper  of  personal  prudence 
raised  among  us, — a  thing  I  was  glad  to  re 
member  afterward.  We  did  not  think  of 
it  at  all ;  we  were  only  anxious  to  give  quick 
answer  to  the  call  of  need. 

Preparations  were  not  elaborate.  In  less 
than  an  hour  we  were  ready.  We  had  only 
to  see  that  our  arms  were  in  order,  and  to 
improvise  blanket  saddles  for  the  horses. 
Three  of  us  were  to  go,  leaving  the  women 
and  the  older  man  behind,  to  care  for  our 
possessions.  None  had  any  wish  to  stay, 
now  that  the  chance  for  action  was  ripening, 
— Elizabeth  least  of  all,  as  I  could  plainly 
see;  though  she  yielded  to  sober  counsels. 
McCulloch  had  left  his  wagon  and  his  free 
horse  in  a  place  of  safety,  where  he  might 
reach  them  some  time  before  midnight,  if  we 
rode  well;  and  we  meant  to  waste  no  time. 

We  had  plenty  of  company  when  we 
found  the  trail;  for  the  alarm  had  been 
quickly  spread  abroad  through  the  wide 
prairie  neighbourhood,  and  the  settlers  gave 
ready  response.  With  our  numbers  there 
was  no  necessity  for  avoiding  the  main  trav- 


To  Arms  163 

elled  ways,  and  by  the  next  midday  we  were 
in  Lawrence,  face  to  face  with  masked  des 
tiny. 

From  all  the  country  around  the  people 
had  gathered,  five  hundred  strong.  The 
town  was  alive  with  armed  men,  and  bust 
ling  with  active  effort  to  prepare  for  de 
fense, — for  they  meant  to  do  nothing  more 
than  defend  their  rights.  The  arms  were 
various  and  for  the  most  part  old  fashioned 
and  poor;  but  the  spirit  of  the  men  was  of 
that  sort  which  is  never  out  of  fashion  when 
there  is  a  stern  duty  to  be  done.  Some  there 
were,  of  course,  who  bore  themselves  with  a 
manner  of  doubt,  and  even  with  white-faced 
fear,  but  they  were  no  large  part  of  the  com 
pany;  the  greater  number  showed  ruddy 
and  clear-eyed  courage,  though  the  outlook 
was  not  such  as  to  beget  confidence.  Rumor 
said  that  the  invading  enemies  of  the  town 
then  in  camp  a  few  miles  away  were  of  three 
times  our  number,  well  equipped  with  rifles 
and  even  with  heavier  weapons, — worse 
than  all,  with  many  days'  supply  of  liquor. 
Attack  was  almost  hourly  expected;  none 
could  say  why  it  had  been  so  long  delayed. 
Meanwhile,  defensive  earthworks  were 


164  Sons  of  Strength 

growing  hour  by  hour  under  willing  hands ; 
men  were  drilling  under  their  chosen  lead 
ers  ;  and  women,  too,  were  busied  in  a  hun 
dred  ways,  cooking,  moulding  bullets, — 
some  even  bearing  arms,  begging  to  take 
their  places  in  the  ranks  with  the  soldiers. 
It  was  a  sight  very  good  to  look  upon. 

Upon  the  main  street  of  the  town  there 
stood  a  building  of  stone,  not  yet  completed, 
but  since  crowned  with  fame, — the  Free 
State  Hotel.  To  that  place  we  were  di 
rected,  when  we  inquired  for  the  headquar 
ters  of  the  militiamen,  and  thither  we  went 
to  report  ourselves  for  duty. 


CHAPTER  XV3 

OLD  JOHN  BROWN 

As  we  drew  near  we  saw  a  curious  spec 
tacle.  Many  men  were  gathered  around 
the  front  of  the  hotel,  regarding  with  won 
dering  eyes  a  wagon  which  had  arrived  just 
before  our  own.  There  were  six  or  seven 
men  within  it,  all  heavily  armed,  and  of 
themselves  enough  to  attract  attention  at 
such  a  time,  when  men  were  so  sorely 
needed.  But  it  was  the  wagon  that  formed 
the  chief  interest.  Around  its  sides  many 
poles  were  set  upright,  and  to  the  top  of  each 
there  was  fastened  a  weapon, — sword,  bayo 
net  or  pistol,  making  the  whole  to  look  most 
warlike  and  imposing.  When  the  driver  of 
the  strange  vehicle  drew  rein  before  the  ho 
tel,  a  hearty  cheer  went  up  from  the  assem 
blage,  and  we  hastened  to  join  the  throng, 
anxious  to  see  what  manner  of  men  the  new 
comers  might  be. 

All  were  young  save  one.  His  shoulders 
were  a  little  stooped,  though  age  sat  lightly 


1 66  Sons  of  Strength 

upon  him.  His  figure  was  firm,  and  above 
middle  height,  and  every  movement  gave 
promise  of  agile  strength.  Although  I 
could  see  so  little  of  him  as  yet,  I  felt  a 
strange  attraction  toward  him,  and  pushed 
my  way  forward  so  that  I  might  see  his  face 
and  form  clearer  judgment  concerning  him. 
As  I  reached  the  side  of  the  wagon,  he 
sprang  lightly  to  the  ground,  and  for  a  brief 
time  we  stood  regarding  one  another  in 
tently, — for  so  short  a  time  as  might  have 
been  required  for  speaking  ten  words, 
though  there  were  no  words  that  passed  be 
tween  us.  I  knew  that  I  was  living  to  some 
purpose  while  those  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
me,  for  a  sincere  and  dauntless  soul  looked 
out  of  them.  His  face  was  clean  shaven, 
showing  every  line  upon  it,  and  every  line 
was  full  of  meaning.  Calm  dignity  of 
thought  marked  the  wide  forehead,  sheltered 
by  shaggy  hair ;  the  firm  lips  showed  perfect 
control  and  mastery  of  self ;  but  the  beauti 
ful  eyes  I  loved  best,  for  in  them  there  blazed 
a  will  so  mighty  that  no  earthly  circumstance 
could  subdue  it  or  turn  it  from  its  way. 
There  was  no  expression  of  softness  upon 
the  face  as  I  looked  at  it  then ;  but  that  was 


Old  John  Brown  167 

not  a  time  for  softness.  It  was  the  face  of 
one  who  knew  beyond  all  doubt  what  man 
hood  meant,  and  who  was  living  up  to  his 
knowledge.  It  was  the  face  of  one  who  had 
heard  the  voice  of  God  speaking  to  him,  di 
recting  his  ways,  and  whose  greatest  earthly 
glory  it  was  to  yield  obedience  to  his  Lord's 
command  and  do  His  will.  Old  John 
Brown ! 

And  men  have  called  him  mad.  No 
doubt  he  was,  when  measured  by  those 
earthly  standards  which  account  all  men  as 
fools  or  mad  whose  every  thought  and  im 
pulse  and  act  is  not  concerned  with  self.  No 
doubt  he  was  mad  as  all  must  be  who  are 
compelled  to  listen  at  once  to  the  voice  of 
God  and  to  the  Babel  of  earthly  tongues. 
Yes,  no  doubt  he  was  mad,  in  the  view  of 
such  as  cried  against  a  certain  holyNazarene 
that  he  had  a  devil.  But  I  thank  God  that 
I  have  met  face  to  face  with  one  heaven- 
born  and  heaven-directed  madman.  This 
world  is  far  poorer  since  he  left  it, — a  pov 
erty  that  may  not  be  mended. 

But  I  have  lost  my  way,  and  have  wan 
dered  far  from  the  course  of  my  tale. 

While  I  stood  there  in  the  street,  looking-, 


1 68  Sons  of  Strength 

looking,  and  not  getting  enough  of  looking 
at  that  master's  face,  some  one  touched  me 
upon  the  shoulder,  and  a  deep  voice  said: 
"Pokey!  My  boy!  Thank  God!"  And 
there  was  John  Hale  at  my  side.  Oh,  that 
was  a  blessed  day! 

He  had  grown  much  older  in  appearance 
since  last  I  had  seen  him.  His  big  beard  was 
streaked  with  gray,  and  there  was  a  mottling 
of  gray  upon  his  temples.  But  those  things 
do  not  count  for  much  in  such  a  man;  his 
eyes  were  full  of  that  fire  which  only  death 
can  smother ;  the  smile  that  lay  upon  his  face 
was  like  a  pledge  of  eternal  youth. 

"I  made  sure  that  I  should  find  you,  dear," 
he  said,  speaking  as  though  I  was  still  a 
child ;  and  indeed  I  had  a  child's  joy  while  I 
stood  before  him,  holding  his  hand,  and 
knowing  that  he  lived  and  that  all  was  well 
with  him. 

"Yes,"I  answered,  when  I  could  find  the 
power  of  speech ;  "I  could  not  stay  behind." 

"A  great  big  boy  you  have  grown  to  be, 
too,"  he  said,  running  his  eyes  over  my  bulk. 

"Big  enough,  I  hope,  to  fill  a  large  place 
in  the  ranks  here,"  I  laughed.  "Does  it  look 
serious?"  ' 


Old  John  Brown  169 

"Serious  enough!"  he  answered  soberly; 
"serious  enough.  No  one  can  say  what  is 
ahead;  though  we  shall  no  doubt  give  a 
good  account  of  ourselves." 

He  had  not  much  to  tell  of  himself,  be 
yond  the  plain  facts  that  he  and  his  family 
had  fared  well  in  the  new  territory,  and  that 
he  had  taken  part  in  many  of  those  conflicts 
which  were  now  history.  He  asked  a  few 
questions  concerning  my  own  life  and  ex 
perience  in  Kansas,  and  seemed  well  pleased 
when  he  knew  the  most  essential  parts  of 
what  I  had  to  tell  him.  "We  shall  make  this 
into  a  beautiful  land,"  he  said  confidently, 
"and  one  fit  for  God  to  look  upon  with  pleas 
ure.  It  is  so  written,  Pokey ;  we  must  believe 
it.  Justice  will  be  done ;  it  is  beyond  human 
power  to  prevent  that."  I  know  that  he  be 
lieved  what  he  said. 

He  had  formed  some  acquaintance  already 
with  John  Brown,  and  of  that  he  gave  me 
the  benefit.  Before  very  long  we  were  upon 
terms  of  such  friendship  as  the  stress  of  cir 
cumstances  required. 

The  martial  appearance  of  John  Brown 
and  his  men  gave  them  much  prestige  in  the 
beleaguered  town,  though  they  were  modest 


170  Sons  of  Strength 

in  taking  the  forward  places  assigned  to 
them.  Among  the  best  armed  of  those  who 
had  assembled,  a  new  militia  company  was 
at  once  formed,  and  of  this  company  Brown 
was  made  captain.  Archy,  John  Hale  and  I 
were  selected  for  service  under  him.  We 
lost  no  time,  once  we  had  been  assigned  to 
duty.  Our  captain  soon  had  us  in  company 
formation,  drilling  us  in  the  arms-manual 
and  instructing  us  in  some  of  the  plainer 
things  of  warfare.  No  doubt  those  were 
matters  of  which  a  righting  man  should  have 
some  knowledge,  though  they  were  of  less 
service  to  us,  both  then  and  thereafter,  than 
another  lesson  which  he  seemed  ordained 
to  teach, — the  great  lesson  of  manly  self-re 
liance  and  heroic  self-sacrifice  in  one.  He  did 
his  best  to  make  us  believe  that  we  were  to 
fight  for  a  just  cause,  and  that  therefore  God 
had  decreed  us  victorious, — a  strange  way  of 
thinking  in  this  latter  time,  and  a  way  al 
most  gone  out  of  style,  though  nothing  could 
shake  his  simple  faith  or  move  his  steadfast 
will.  Doubt  had  no  place  in  his  mind,  while 
there  was  a  duty  waiting  to  be  done;  and 
he  tried  to  teach  us  so,  while  instructing  us 
in  the  use  of  our  rifles.  But  for  the  most  part 


Old  John  Brown  171 

the  men  were  slow  to  learn  the  higher  lesson, 
having  greater  confidence  in  their  weapons 
than  in  themselves. 

Soon  he  had  learned  the  temper  of  the 
men  under  his  command,  as  well  as  the  exi 
gencies  of  the  time;  then  he  was  impatient 
for  action, — impatient  to  strike  a  blow.  We 
had  been  waiting  in  hourly  expectation  that 
the  invaders  would  advance  upon  us,  when 
they  had  discovered  our  inferiority  in  num 
bers  and  arms;  but  the  passing  hours  bore 
nothing  more  trying  than  our  own  suspense. 
Delay  was  not  to  Brown's  liking,  nor  would 
he  give  ear  to  the  counsels  of  caution  urged 
upon  him  by  those  who  knew  the  strength 
of  the  force  we  should  have  to  combat. 

"You  are  ignorant  of  the  ways  of  the 
Lord,"  he  said  to  such  as  tried  to  discourage 
him  in  his  plan.  "The  time  is  ripe.  The 
Lord  does  not  temporize  with  evil,  and 
neither  can  I,  who  am  appointed  by  Him  to 
do  this  work.  We  shall  go  down  and  smite 
in  His  name,  and  even  my  little  band  shall 
have  victory."  And  indeed  those  of  the 
command  who  had  come  to  know  him  and 
to  know  themselves  were  as  impatient  as  he, 
and  as  unwilling  to  be  restrained  for  policy's 


172  Sons  of  Strength 

sake.     But  we  were  made  to  suffer  disap 
pointment. 

A  Council  of  Safety  there  was  in  the  town, 
formed  of  those  men  whose  political  craft 
had  been  tried  and  proven.  Their  desire  was 
to  secure  peace,  rather  than  victory ; — to  sac 
rifice  honour  for  peace,  rather  than  to  risk 
defeat  for  victory.  The  inexorable  spirit  of 
John  Brown,  whom  they  soon  called  fanatic, 
kept  the  Council  in  a  constant  dumb  ague 
of  terror,  while  they  kept  him  in  constant 
wrath.  When  his  plan  was  formed  for  mak 
ing  an  attack  upon  the  invaders'  camp,  the 
Council  appealed  to  the  chief  officers  of  the 
militia  to  check  his  mad  design,  and  to  pre 
vent  the  conflict  which  the  committee  dread 
ed; — for  it  was  a  Council  of  Fear,  strong 
in  the  faith  that  safety  lay  only  in  non-resist 
ance.  I  remember  that  there  were  several 
visits  of  those  men  to  our  captain,  which 
came  to  nothing.  We  were  going  on  with 
preparations  for  attack,  when  at  last  Gen 
eral  Lane  appeared  in  person,  attended  by 
a  few  of  his  adherents.  He  was  a  man  of 
well-known  and  often-tried  political  cunning, 
and  of  such  composite  character  that  al 
though  he  was  wholly  false  to  principle  and 


Old  John  Brown  173 

full  of  low  hypocrisy,  he  had  persuaded  the 
people  to  think  him  genuine  and  true.  But 
that  is  no  very  hard  task  at  any  time ;  for  we 
sons  of  earth  are  after  all  a  simple-minded 
lot,  and  easily  deceived  by  appearances. 
Lane  and  his  party  came  to  seek  Brown, 
while  we  were  drilling,  and  to  make  a  final 
effort  to  thwart  his  purpose;  and  when  I 
looked  them  over,  from  my  place  in  the 
ranks,  to  see  what  they  might  be  like  who 
would  try  to  overawe  this  doughty  old  Puri 
tan,  among  the  foremost  of  them  I  descried 
Blinky  Meade,  his  dimpl'es  sunk  into 
wrinkles  of  perplexity,  his  dreamy  brown 
eyes  clouded  with  doubt  and  anxiety.  When 
I  knew  that  he  was  likely  to  try  his  tongue 
upon  the  unchangeable  spirit  of  our  leader,  I 
kept  my  ears  open. 

Lane  spoke  with  a  great  show  of  bluster 
ing  authority,  giving  an  emphatic  order  of 
obedience  to  his  direction  that  the  attack 
upon  Franklin  be  abandoned;  but  as  well 
might  he  have  tried  to  exercise  his  authority 
upon  the  north  wind.  Brown  listened  in 
silence  for  a  time ;  but  it  was  a  silence  which 
we  knew  could  not  endure  for  very  long. 

"I  deny  all  military  authority  over  me, 


174  Sons  of  Strength 

unless  you  give  me  an  order  to  fight,"  he 
cried  at  last  hotly.  "My  master  is  the  Lord. 
I  shall  obey  none  but  Him,  and  His  orders 
I  have  already  received." 

"Your  course  would  be  the  sheerest  folly," 
Lane  answered  with  the  hasty  impatience  of 
one  who  was  not  much  concerned  with  ques 
tions  of  heavenly  dominion  in  earthly  af 
fairs.  "What  can  you  hope  to  do,  with  fifty 
men  against  fifteen  hundred?  You  can  do 
nothing  beyond  involving  us  all  in  ruin  and 
loss." 

Brown's  great  grey  eyes  were  blazing  with 
the  wrath  that  such  speech  would  excite  in 
him. 

"I  should  think  myself  ruined  and  lost  be 
yond  all  salvation,"  he  cried,  "if  I  should 
fail  to  carry  out  the  trust  which  the  Lord  has 
reposed  in  me.  I  cannot  listen  to  the  coun 
sels  of  such  cowardice  as  yours,  and  I  will 
not  obey  your  orders." 

While  he  spoke  thus  so  briefly,  the  old 
hero  held  his  drawn  sword  before  him,  mak 
ing  use  of  it  in  strong  gestures.  When  he  had 
said  the  last  word,  he  returned  the  blade  to 
its  scabbard,  and  then  the  two  men  stood 
face  to  face,  their  eyes  meeting  in  a  silent 


Old  John  Brown  175 

war  of  one  will  against  the  other.  They  were 
Lane's  eyes  that  dropped  at  last,  while  he 
turned  away  to  speak  with  those  who  at 
tended  hm.  He  seemed  to  rely  upon  Blinky 
Meade;  for  to  him  he  spoke  a  few  low  syl 
lables,  as  though  urging  him  to  use  what 
skill  of  argument  he  possessed  against  this 
rebellious  captain,  who  was  so  far  beyond 
the  reach  of  discipline.  And  Blinky  was  not 
one  to  allow  such  chance  to  escape  him,  as  I 
well  knew. 

"It  is  not  our  wish,  here  in  Lawrence,  to 
provoke  strife,"  he  said  smoothly.  "We 
wish  to  preserve  peace.  It  was  to  that  end 
that  our  call  for  aid  was  sent  abroad.  You 
forget  that  you  were  summoned  here  for  the 
protection  of  our  interests." 

A  faint  smile  moved  the  grim  old  lips  for 
a  moment,  while  Brown  looked  into  Blinky's 
face, — as  though  that  face  was  an  open  page 
which  held  something  amusing.  "Interest !" 
Brown  echoed.  "That  seems  to  be  a  mighty 
word,  sir,  in  this  time.  But  I  am  called  to 
serve  a  stronger  interest  than  yours,  which 
is  an  interest  of  dollars.  Dollars  against 
righteousness !" 


1 76  Sons  of  Strength 

"Our  interests  are  for  peace,"  Blinky  per 
sisted. 

"Peace!"  John  Brown  repeated  again. 
"Peace  to  what  end?  What  will  you  do 
with  peace?" 

"Peace  for  the  enjoyment  of  our  liberties," 
Blinky  answered.  "We  have  made  homes 
for  ourselves  here ;  we  desire  to  preserve  and 
enjoy  them.  We  seek  no  conflict."  But 
Brown  held  up  his  hand  with  a  sharp  gesture 
of  remonstrance  and  dissent. 

"Words!  Words!"  he  cried.  "You  are 
faithless  to  your  calling,  sir; — faithless  to 
your  duty  as  a  man !  Peace  bought  with  the 
coin  of  cowardice  is  not  peace  at  all.  There 
can  be  no  peace  save  that  which  attends  upon 
righteousness;  and  when  righteousness 
makes  compromises  with  evil,  it  is  no  longer 
righteousness,  but  becomes  itself  a  thing  of 
the  devil.  You  need  talk  to  me  no  more,  for 
we  cannot  agree." 

Blinky's  face  grew  fiery  red  with  the  un 
lovely  flush  of  wounded  vanity.  I  knew  very 
well  that  he  was  not  to  be  converted  by  the 
means  of  plain,  honest  words  like  Brown's. 
His  manner  was  stiff  with  pride  when  he 
tried  to  answer :  "You  assume  a  great  deal 


Old  John  Brown  177 

when  you  place  your  own  notions  above  the 
convictions  of  all  the  rest  of  us.  We  have 
material  interests  to  guard,  while  you  have 
no  concern  beyond  the  gratification  of  a 
wildly  foolish  whim.  We  have  a  right  to  in 
sist  that  you  listen  to  our  reasons  and  ob 
serve  our  wishes." 

It  was  Brown's  turn  to  grow  flushed  of 
face ;  but  his  was  a  flush  of  passionate  indig 
nation.  "I  waste  time  in  talking  to  you!" 
he  cried.  "I  might  as  well  talk  to  the  de 
caying  stump  of  a  dead  tree.  Though  you 
call  yourself  a  servant  of  the  Lord,  you  be 
tray  Him  when  you  set  your  own  vaunted 
concerns  against  your  duty.  I  will  observe 
the  wish  of  none  but  God,  whose  command 
I  have  clearly  heard;  and  it  is  a  command 
to  strike  at  the  oppressors  of  freedom.  You 
fear  a  loss  of  dollars;  I  do  not  fear  even 
death.  A  man  dies  but  once,  and  when  his 
time  comes ;  I  would  account  it  blessed  in  the 
Lord's  service.  I  will  strike  according  to 
His  order,  if  my  men  will  stand  by  me." 

When  it  was  so  clearly  seen  that  the  gran 
ite  will  of  the  old  man  would  yield  in  no  de 
gree  to  persuasion,  command  or  threat,  and 
that  he  would  not  lose  sight  of  what  he 


178  Sons  of  Strength 

thought  to  be  his  higher  call,  General 
Lane  signified  to  Blinky  that  he  should  aban 
don  argument;  which  he  did  willingly, 
though  with  a  manner  of  childish  angry  pet 
ulance.  Then  Lane  spoke  to  us  who  formed 
Brown's  company,  as  though  he  had  received 
a  prompting  from  Brown's  last  words. 

"Because  of  the  disobedience  of  your  cap 
tain  to  the  orders  of  his  superiors,"  he  said, 
"it  becomes  my  duty  to  command  you  that 
you  take  no  part  in  any  lawless  expedition 
of  violence  and  disorder,  under  pain  of  such 
punishment  as  may  be  visited  upon  you  by 
the  constituted  authorities.  As  a  part  of  the 
military  forces  summoned  for  the  protection 
of  the  town,  you  will  be  hereafter  subject  to 
my  direction.  I  caution  you  for  your  own 
safety,  as  well  as  for  the  general  good,  to 
remember  what  I  say."  Then  he  turned 
with  his  aids  and  left  us,  while  our  captain 
stood  with  his  chin  sunk  upon  his  breast,  his 
eyes  bent  to  the  ground,  as  though  he  had 
suffered  a  personal  shame. 

It  was  plain  that  Lane's  words  had 
wrought  their  intended  effect  in  some  of  the 
less  courageous  hearts ;  for  it  is  always  easy, 
in  any  time  and  place,  to  find  men  who  are 


Old  John  Brown  179 

more  ready  to  heed  the  idlest  threat  than  to 
follow  the  strongest  call  of  duty.  The 
greater  number  of  those  in  our  company 
turned  fearful,  and  their  purpose  lagged. 
And  soon  after,  when  it  became  known  that 
the  Council  of  Safety  had  dispatched  a  mes 
senger  to  bring  the  governor  of  the  territory 
from  Shawnee  Mission  to  Lawrence,  and 
that  they  meant  to  employ  his  offices  in  ef 
fecting  a  compromise  with  the  Missouri  in 
vaders,  John  Brown  hopelessly  abandoned 
his  intentions,  and  fell  into  disheartened 
apathy. 


CHAPTER  XVI' 

A  PRIVATE  ENTERPRISE 

STRANGE  works  are  wrought  in  the  name 
of  Safety!  as  we  found  when  the  governor 
arrived  in  Lawrence.  He  was  a  very  weak 
man, — weak  because  of  his  strong  faith,  so 
popular  at  that  time,  that  Policy  is  the  most 
effective  means  of  dealing  with  men.  When 
he  was  with  the  Council  he  was  made  drunk, 
and  while  he  was  in  that  helpless  condition, 
the  terms  of  peace  were  settled.  It  was  soon 
known  to  us  that  the  compromise  was  a 
thing  of  fact,  and  that  the  siege  of  Law 
rence  would  be  raised.  Brown's  voice  was 
lifted  in  solemn  protest ;  but  his  protest  was 
passed  idly  by.  The  people  were  too  busy 
with  congratulating  one  another  upon  their 
escape  from  danger;  they  had  no  time  to 
give  attention  to  the  vagaries  of  any  latter- 
day  voice  crying  in  the  wilderness. 

But  this  was  not  to  the  liking  of  Archy 
McCulloch.  When  we  knew  that  peace 
would  reign  once  more,  he  brooded  upon  the 


A  Private  Enterprise         181 

matter  for  a  time  in  silence ;  then  he  sought 
me. 

"Pokey,  this  won't  do,"  he  said  earnestly. 
"What  kind  of  a  way  is  this  to  act  ?  This  is 
the  first  chance  we've  had  to  look  Missouri 
in  the  face,  and  I'd  hoped — Well,  Dad's 
down  there  to  Franklin;  I  know  he  is.  It 
kind  o'  seems  like  I'm  to  blame,  myself,  for 
this  backin'  down.  I  tell  you  what;  I've 
got  to  go  down  there  to  Franklin  and  take  a 
look  at  them  fellows.  I've  just  got  to;  an' 
I'm  a-goin'  to-night,  soon  as  it's  dark,  before 
they  get  away." 

I  could  not  help  smiling ;  the  scheme  was 
so  wild,  so  foolhardy,  yet  so  altogether  in 
harmony  with  his  dominant  humour, 
"Archy,"  I  said;  "I  must  have  a  guardian 
appointed  to  take  care  of  you." 

He  laughed  with  careless  good  nature. 
"Oh,  I  picked  him  out  long  ago.  What  else 
are  you?  That's  why  I'm  talkin'  to  you 
now ; — you've  got  to  come  along  with  me  an' 
look  after  me."  He  paused  for  a  moment, 
studying  my  face  for  signs ;  then  went  on  in 
his  most  candid  manner  of  persuasive  sim 
plicity:  "I  just  can't  go  back  home,  after 
bein'  so  near  to  them  folks  from  over  the 


1 8  2  Sons  of  Strength 

river,  without  takin'  a  squint  at  'em.  Of 
course,  there's  Dad ;  I  want  to  see  him,  you 
know, — that's  natural.  And  then  there's 
bound  to  be  others  with  the  crowd,  that  I 
know.  I — I'm  kind  o'  homesick  to  see  'em. 
An'  then,  Pardner,  there's  little  old 
Mammy;  it's  months  since  I've  heard  any 
thing  about  her.  I  can't  stand  it  no  longer ; 
I've  got  to  take  some  chances,  an'  try  to  find 
out  something  about  her." 

"Well,  Archy,"  I  was  constrained  to  say 
after  a  little  of  futile  argument;  "I'll  go 
with  you.  Do  you  want  any  others?" 

"No.  You  an'  me's  enough.  More  would 
hinder,  instead  of  helpin'.  A  big  party 
couldn't  get  in  past  the  picket  lines  without 
bein'  caught.  An'  we  know  too  much  al 
ready  about  the  kind  of  stuff  these  fellows 
here  are  made  of; — a  lot  of  wood  dummies, 
instead  of  men.  You  an'  me'll  be  enough. 
We'll  just  sneak  in  quiet,  an'  mebbe  we  can 
get  close  enough  to  see  what's  goin'  on,  an' 
who's  there." 

We  took  no  one  into  our  confidence  con 
cerning  the  trip,  save  John  Brown  and  Hale. 
As  we  talked  to  Brown  briefly,  and  ex 
plained  the  reasons  for  our  going,  his  rug- 


A  Private  Enterprise         183 

ged  face  was  alight  with  appreciation  and 
encouragement.  "With  fifty  men  like  you 
two,  I  could  route  the  whole  horde!"  he 
cried.  And  yet  our  plan  was  simple  and 
unpraiseworthy. 

We  started  in  the  early  evening,  going 
quietly  and  by  a  roundabout  way  until  we 
had  passed  beyond  chance  of  interference 
from  those  in  the  town  who  were  now  so  cer 
tain  of  the  end  of  the  trouble. .  We  knew 
that  they  would  not  suffer  us  to  go,  if  they 
guessed  our  errand.  We  rode  two  of  our 
best  horses,  meaning  to  make  the  last  part  of 
the  journey  on  foot,  to  be  sure  of  passing 
undiscovered  through  such  lines  of  sentries 
as  might  still  be  maintained  on  the  outskirts 
of  the  town  where  the  invaders  were 
camped.  It  was  a  cheerless  ride,  and  must 
have  discouraged  us  if  we  had  not  been  in 
earnest.  As  the  night  deepened,  a  heavy  rain 
fell  persistently,  and  a  bleak  wind  blew  the 
rain  into  our  faces,  making  it  sting  with 
harsh  needles  of  cold.  The  winter  chill  bit 
at  our  hands,  and  even  found  its  way  into 
our  blood,  so  that  we  could  with  difficulty 
keep  to  our  seats  and  guide  our  fretful 
beasts.  Yet  when  we  talked  of  it,  we  dis- 


184  Sons  of  Strength 

covered  that  the  weather  was  in  our  favour ; 
for  on  such  a  night,  those  from  whom  we 
had  to  fear  molestation  would  be  apt  to  seek 
such  shelter  as  they  could  find,  letting  the 
outer  world  care  for  itself.  This  followed 
our  wish  exactly;  for  when  we  had  passed 
a  little  way  beyond  the  river,  the  roads  were 
unfamiliar,  and  heavy  with  mud  and  slush, 
so  that  our  horses'  splashing  steps  must  have 
betrayed  us  for  a  long  distance,  if  there  had 
been  any  abroad  to  hear. 

After  the  last  ray  of  twilight  had  been 
sunk  and  lost  in  inky  blackness  of  night,  and 
we  could  no  longer  see  the  roadway,  we 
trusted  to  our  horses,  allowing  them  to 
choose  their  own  way  of  going.  We  were 
sure  of  nothing,  save  that  we  were  passing 
toward  Franklin;  for  in  the  distance  we 
could  see  that  the  low-hanging  clouds  were 
ruddy  with  the  reflected  glow  of  the  enemy's 
camp.  We  had  to  take  all  the  rest  for 
granted. 

Such  mode  of  travel  did  not  encourage 
speech ;  we  had  quite  enough  to  do  in  bend 
ing  our  heads  to  the  storm,  and  in  keeping 
our  coats  drawn  closely  about  us  for  protec 
tion  against  its  icy  breath.  But  when  we 


A  Private  Enterprise         185 

had  approached  as  near  to  the  town  as  we 
dared  upon  horseback,  and  had  tied  our  ani 
mals  in  a  sheltered  and  secure  place,  we 
found  a  grateful  warmth  in  the  hard  work 
of  walking  over  the  miry  road.  And  then, 
as  the  blood  began  to  flow  more  freely  in  our 
veins,  and  our  stiffened  muscles  relaxed,  we 
talked  a  little  now  and  again. 

"Say,  Pokey,"  my  companion  asked  in 
one  of  those  times;  "how  do  you  feel  when 
you're  disappointed  in  a  man?  Does  it 
hurt?" 

"Yes,"  I  answered  briefly,  speaking  from 
sad  experience  which  was  fresh  upon  my 
mind. 

"It  hurts  me,  too,"  he  said.  "I  always 
like  to  think  well  of  folks,  as  long  as  they 
give  me  half  a  chance.  It's  lots  the  best 
way,  don't  you  know  it?  But  it  certainly 
goes  against  me  to  run  across  such  fellows 
as  some  of  them  mangy  curs  back  in  Law 
rence.  A  Blue  Lodge  wouldn't  have  done  a 
trick  like  that.  They're  cowards,  I  know, 
over  in  Missouri,  but  they're  a  different  kind 
of  cowards.  They'd  fight  the  best  they 
knew  how,  anyway;  though  that  ain't 
much.  Look  at  that  young  preacher,  for 


1 86  Sons  of  Strength 

one, — him  that  tried  to  scare  the  captain  the 
other  day.  I've  always  expected  a  preacher, 
no  matter  who  he  was,  to  take  all  kinds  of 
chances  in  this  sort  of  a  game.  Mebbe  that's 
because  I  hain't  known  many  preachers.  A 
critter  like  him  makes  a  pretty  picture,  don't 
he?  when  he  stands  beside  a  man  like  old 
Brown." 

Then,  partly  by  way  of  answer,  and 
partly  as  a  means  of  beguiling  the  slow  min 
utes,  I  told  him  what  I  knew  of  Blinky 
Meade,  and  of  what  he  had  been  to  me  in  the 
olden  time,  when  we  were  boys  together. 
Archy  listened  attentively  until  I  had  fin 
ished  my  story. 

"Say,  I  didn't  want  to  make  you  feel 
bad,"  he  said  then.  "I  reckon  I  oughtn't  to 
have  said  that  about  him." 

Before  I  could  find  words  for  disclaiming 
the  wish  to  champion  Blinky's  weakness,  I 
heard  the  sound  of  horse's  hoofs  splashing 
and  floundering  in  the  road  behind  us.  I 
passed  to  Archy  a  quick  warning,  and  we 
stepped  out  to  the  side  of  the  road.  There 
was  now  ample  justification  for  such  pre 
caution,  for  we  were  drawing  very  near  to 
Franklin,  and  the  light  reflected  from  the 


A  Private  Enterprise         187 

low  clouds  showed  us  the  roadway  and  the 
objects  in  our  course, — everything  appear 
ing  blurred  and  shadowy  of  outline,  yet  dis 
tinct  enough  to  warn  us  that  we  too  might 
be  seen.  We  stood  against  a  dark  background 
of  leafless  bushes,  waiting  in  silence  until 
the  horseman  should  pass  us.  We  knew  by 
the  sound  that  there  was  but  one,  and  we 
judged  from  his  incautious  manner  of  trav 
elling  that  he  was  a  friend  of  the  invaders, 
or  perhaps  one  of  them,  and  not  afraid  of 
discovery.  I  thought  that  he  must  have  rid 
den  far,  for  his  horse  appeared  to  be  badly 
jaded,  and  needed  constant  urging  by  whip 
and  spur.  All  this  would  not  have  been 
cause  for  remark;  but  when  the  rider  was 
nearly  abreast  of  us  he  broke  into  a  petulant 
but  choicely  worded  complaint  of  the  horse's 
lagging,  and  of  his  own  discomfort.  The 
voice  seemed  very  familiar.  Archy  noticed 
this  also,  and  spoke  to  me  under  his  breath : 
"Who's  that?  Somebody  from  Law 
rence  !  Who  do  you  reckon  would  be  comin' 
'down  here?  Say,  I'm  goin'  to  see  who  it 
is !"  And  despite  my  whispered  protest,  he 
crept  forward  warily  from  our  shelter, 
standing  as  near  to  the  center  of  the  road  as 


1 88  Sons  of  Strength 

he  dared,  to  catch  sight  of  the  dim-lit  face. 
He  stood  motionless  until  the  traveller  had 
gone  past  and  his  impatient  words  were  soft 
ened  by  distance  into  a  muttered  growl. 

"Pokey;"  Archy  called  then,  as  I  went 
out  to  join  him ;  "Who  do  you  think  it  was? 
It  was  the  preacher !" 

"Not  Blinky  Meade?"  I  asked. 

"Blinky!"  Archy  echoed.  "Blinky!  It 
was  him,  all  right;  I  saw  him  fair  and 
square,  an'  no  mistake.  What  in  the  world 
is  he  doin',  comin'  down  to  Franklin?" 

But  that  was  more  than  I  could  guess. 
Surely  there  could  be  no  public  mission  so 
urgent  as  to  demand  that  a  messenger 
should  travel  in  such  wise,  and  on  such  a 
night;  and  Blinky  Meade  I  knew  to  be  the 
most  unlikely  man  to  thus  immolate  himself 
for  the  general  good.  The  mere  fact  of  its 
being  he  was  sufficient  cause  for  thinking  his 
purpose  a  purely  personal  one. 

"I  give  it  up,  Archy,"  I  said.  "Come; 
let's  go  on.  and  maybe  we'll  find  out  his  er 
rand." 

The  peace  compromise,  and  the  raw  dis 
comfort  of  the  winter  night  had  leagued 
themselves  together  for  withdrawing  the 


A  Private  Enterprise         189 

pickets  theretofore  posted  on  regular  duty. 
In  the  outskirts  of  the  little  town  all  was 
dark;   for  the  Free  Soil  citizens  were  keep 
ing  in  as  close  seclusion  as  they  could,  avoid 
ing  all  chance  of  meeting  with  the  rowdy 
horde,  while  the  sympathizers  of  the  inva 
ders  were  hanging  about  the  large  camps 
maintained  by  the  tramp-army,  drinking  of 
the  liquor  that  had  been  flowing  so  freely. 
We  had  no  difficulty  in  working  our  way 
well  into  the  heart  of  the  town.     When  we 
were  so  near  to  the  Missouri  encampment 
that  we  could  distinctly  hear  the  tumult  of 
their  rioting,  we  avoided  the  thoroughfares, 
and  slunk  through  alleyways  and  through 
vacant   lots   and   wooded   places,    drawing 
nearer,  little  by  little,  to  the  wild  vortex  of 
drunken  brawling  which  marked  the  last  un 
comfortable  days  of  that  mimic  campaign. 
We  were  protected  by  a  thick  growth  of 
timber  when  we  came  within  sight  of  the 
main  camp.     It  was  the  merest  child's-play, 
after  all,  to  keep  ourselves  in  hiding  while 
we  observed  everything  that  went  forward. 
It  was  a  sorry  and  bedraggled  picture  that 
lay  before  us.      The  cold  rains  had  fallen 
with  distressful  frequency  within  the  few 


190  Sons  of  Strength 

days  preceding  the  compromise,  until  men, 
wagons  and  food  were  pitilessly  drenched, 
and  the  hot  blood  of  those  doughty  brag 
garts,  which  had  been  boiling  with  eager 
ness  for  battle,  was  now  reduced  to  such  low 
point  of  temperature  as  showed  itself  in 
fierce  outbreaks  of  passionate  bad  temper  in 
each  man  toward  his  fellows.  They  had 
sought  to  reduce  their  discomfort  by  the  use 
of  liberal  potations  of  raw  whisky ;  but  that 
had  only  served  to  stir  to  greater  depths  the 
springs  of  their  ill  nature.  They  had  missed 
their  hoped-for  fight  with  us,  and  they  were 
making  up  for  the  loss  by  fighting  valiantly 
among  themselves.  The  less  hardy  mem 
bers  of  the  expedition, — or  perhaps  they 
were  only  the  less  drunken, — had  returned 
homeward  even  before  the  time  of  Governor 
Shannon's  intervention.  The  lot  of  those 
who  remained  was  hard,  though  their  lead 
ers  did  their  best  to  maintain  some  outward 
show  of  bravery,  stimulating  and  exciting 
the  chilling  spirit  of  the  mob  by  a  continued 
display  of  the  fireworks  of  passionate  ora 
tory. 

Such  an  exhibition  was  in  progress  when 
we  first  looked  from  our  hiding  place  among 


A  Private  Enterprise         191 

the  trees.  A  great  bonfire  of  logs  had  been 
kindled  in  the  open,  and  was  blazing  with 
such  vigour  as  to  defy  the  rain,  its  glow 
throwing  upon  the  broad  picture  myriad 
eerie  effects  of  high  light  and  dense  shadow. 
Near  to  the  fire  stood  two  small  cannon, 
dripping  with  moisture  at  muzzle  and 
breech,  which  turned  into  impotence  their 
threatening  aspect.  Covered  wagons  were 
drawn  near  together  in  long  rows,  and  some 
of  the  canvas  wagon-tops  had  been  made 
into  small  shelter-tents  around  the  fire.  In 
every  possible  place  of  protection  the  men 
were  clustered  thickly,  joining  their  voices 
in  a  general  chorus  of  unavailing  protest  and 
complaint.  Upon  the  rear  step  of  one  of 
the  wagons  a  rain-soaked  orator  was  holding 
forth  with  a  fierce  array  of  words, — words 
that  lacked  all  heart  and  sentiment, — that 
lacked  everything  save  bitterness  of  feeling 
toward  the  hated  Free  Soilers.  The  atten 
tion  given  to  the  speaker  was  wavering  and 
discourteous;  for  the  host  was  in  such  con 
dition  that  mere  words  could  have  little  ef 
fect.  Very  few  of  the  men  would  venture 
from  their  shelter;  they  preferred  to  listen, 
if  they  listened  at  all,  from  the  posts  of  com- 


192  Sons  of  Strength 

parative  comfort  under  the  canvas.  Some 
times  the  voice  of  the  speaker  would  be 
wholly  drowned  by  the  rising  tide  of  intoxi 
cated  clamor  and  quarrelling. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

A   BETRAYAL   AND   A    RESCUE 

THE  fulminating  oration  was  brought  to 
a  sudden  end.  From  some  place  in  the  dim 
background  a  shrill  cheer  arose  over  the 
general  medley  of  sounds,  and  a  half-dozen 
of  men  hurried  forward  into  the  circle  of  the 
firelight,  crowding  and  jostling  one  another, 
and  talking  loudly.  They  seemed  to  have 
their  interest  centered  upon  one  of  their 
number,  whom  they  urged  into  a  place  of 
prominence  at  their  head.  Straining  my 
eyes  in  the  dancing  uncertain  light,  I  saw 
that  he  was  Blinky  Meade.  The  long  coat 
that  he  wore  was  spattered  and  clogged  with 
mud,  and  every  thread  of  his  clothing  was 
dripping  wet ;  but  his  face  was  flushed,  and 
his  manner,  as  he  talked  with  his  compan 
ions,  was  impetuous  and  eager. 

When  the  little  company  had  reached  the 
speaker's  wagon,  Blinky's  companions  left 
him  and  hurried  about  among  the  wagons 
and  tents,  from  each  of  which  there  issued  a 


1 94  Sons  of  Strength 

noisy  group  of  men  who  clustered  around 
Blinky,  screaming  and  shouting  as  though 
they  sought  to  do  him  some  rude  honour. 
His  mentors  soon  returned  to  his  side,  and 
lifted  him  to  a  place  upon  the  wagon-step 
which  did  duty  as  a  rostrum,  while  the  as 
semblage  raised  a  boisterous  demand  for  a 
speech.  And  Blinky  showed  no  hesitation 
in  yielding  to  their  wish. 

"Men !"  he  began  in  his  solemnly  impres 
sive  pulpit  manner,  as  though  he  thought 
himself  teaching  a  Godly  lesson.  "Men! 
Your  leaders  have  known  me  in  the  past, 
and  who  I  am  is  not  unknown  to  some  of  the 
lowlier  among  you.  I  have  been  called  upon 
to  perform  a  delicate  and  trying  duty  in  your 
behalf,  and  I  have  had  to  choose  a  trying 
means  of  coming  down  to  make  my  report  to 
your  worthy  leaders,  so  that  they  might 
judge  whether  I  have  performed  my  duty  to 
their  satisfaction.  And  now  I  want  to  say 
a  few  words  in  the  hearing  of  yourselves, 
who  are  the  sinews  of  this  contest  for  our 
sacred  liberties !"  He  got  no  further  then, 
for  a  mighty  cheer  went  up  from  the  general 
throat,  and  it  was  a  long  time  before  such 


A  Betrayal  and  a  Rescue      195 

order  was  restored  as  to  allow  of  his  con 
tinuing. 

"Hear  that!"  Archy  whispered  hoarsely 
in  my  ear.  "Good  God!  An'  that's  him 
that  talked  to  old  Brown !"  The  rest  of  his 
whispering  was  very  forceful,  formed  of 
words  made  upon  the  border ;  but  it  can  have 
no  place  here ;  it  was  the  only  speech  I  ever 
heard  from  him  which  might  not  be  repeated 
at  large. 

We  could  hear  little  of  what  followed 
from  Blinky's  lips,  so  tumultuous  was  the 
clamor.  I  cannot  tell  what  I  thought.  I 
knew  Blinky  so  well  that  I  could  hardly  have 
justified  a  hope  of  finding  him  better  or 
manlier  than  he  had  shown  himself  to  be; 
and  yet  I  have  always  been  weak  enough  to 
hope  strongly  that  good  will  come  upper 
most  in  a  man,  if  it  has  but  fair  chance.  It 
was  not  that  I  disliked  having  him  allied 
with  those  who  in  their  turn  were  allied  with 
wrong.  I  could  freely  have  allowed  him 
his  own  choice  of  opinions,  and  should  have 
thought  none  the  less  of  him  because  those 
opinions  disagreed  with  my  own.  I  would 
have  had  him  be  honest.  I  did  not  believe 
that  his  present  course  was  an  honest  one; 


1 96  Sons  of  Strength 

politic  it  was,  rather,  born  of  a  faint-hearted 
regard  for  the  force  of  numbers,  and  of  fear 
for  the  future.  And  as  I  knew  that,  in  that 
moment  all  my  old  love  for  him  died  down 
within  me. 

But  I  had  little  time  then  for  dwelling 
upon  my  disappointment.  While  he  was 
speaking,  suddenly  there  issued  from  one  of 
the  tents  near  by  a  new  figure,  at  sight  of 
whom  Archy  and  I  involuntarily  started  for 
ward.  He  made  a  most  melancholy  specta 
cle.  He  was  dishevelled  and  smoke-grimed, 
as  though  his  person  had  received  complete 
neglect  during  the  eventful  fortnight.  His 
hair  and  beard  were  unkempt  and  matted, 
and  mud  was  thick  upon  him,  as  though  he 
had  made  his  nightly  bed  in  the  soft  ooze. 
With  most  men  those  things  would  have 
served  as  disfigurements  and  disguises;  but 
with  him  they  seemed  to  render  recognition 
easier,  accenting  every  feature  of  his  low 
and  vile  aspect. 

"Oh,  Lord!"  Archy  groaned  in  hopeless 
misery.  "It's  Dad!  Look  at  him!  He's 
drunk !  He's  got  pretty  low  down,  ain't  he  ? 
I've  never  seen  him  drunk  before,  not  in  all 
my  life."  But  there  could  be  no  doubt  of 


A  Betrayal  and  a  Rescue      197 

his  drunkenness:  his  steps  were  reeling,  his 
feet  slipping  helplessly  beneath  him  upon  the 
soft  earth,  and  he  grasped  wildly  at  every 
thing  within  reach  that  promised  a  secure 
hold.  When  he  stood  upon  the  outer  edge  of 
the  noisy  company,  he  sought  to  push  him 
self  into  the  heart  of  the  dense  mass ;  but  he 
could  not;  he  had  to  content  himself  with 
clinging  for  support  to  those  who  consider 
ately  allowed  him  a  hold  of  arm  or  clothing. 
Whether  he  had  heard  something  of  Blinky 
Meade's  discourse,  or  whether  he  formed  his 
drunken  judgment  upon  the  attitude  of  those 
who  were  in  better  position  to  hear,  we  could 
not  tell ;  but  he  raised  his  maudlin  voice  in  a 
hoarse  shout  of  approval : 

"Good  for  you,  young  fellow !  Death  and 
hell-fire  for  the  Abolitionists!  That's  what 
I  say !  You  talk,  an'  I'll  shoot !"  His  fren 
zied  outburst  rose  high  above  the  din,  and  he 
waved  a  pistol  threateningly  above  his  head, 
until  some  one  took  it  from  him.  Blinky's 
eyes  were  turned  toward  him,  while  the 
speech  was  stopped  for  a  moment.  The 
crowd  seemed  intolerant  of  the  interruption. 
A  few  of  those  who  stood  near  the  old  man 
took  hold  of  him  and  tried  to  urge  him  to  go 


198  Sons  of  Strength 

away;  but  he  strongly  refused,  striking  out 
aimlessly  with  clenched  fists.  Then,  while 
I  was  deeply  intent  upon  the  unlovely  sight. 
I  heard  that  Archy  gave  a  sharp  gasp,  and 
he  clutched  fiercely  at  my  arm. 

"Look!"  he  cried.  "There's  Mammy!" 
And  when  I  looked  as  he  pointed,  there  she 
was  in  truth,  coming  from  the  tent  whence 
her  husband  had  escaped.  Her  face,  which 
I  remembered  as  being  so  full  of  a  dumb 
warrant  for  compassion,  was  now  deeply 
seamed  with  the  marks  of  suffering,  tense 
and  white.  She  was  dressed  as  on  the  day  I 
had  first  seen  her,  in  poor  black;  but  her 
head  was  without  the  protection  of  her  bon 
net,  exposed  to  the  chilling  rain.  She  seemed 
to  have  just  awakened  from  sleep ;  her  eyes 
were  heavy  and  haggard,  and  she  looked 
about  her  in  a  bewildered  and  anxious  way, 
as  though  in  quest  of  something  she  had 
missed  on  waking. 

"'Archy!  What  can  be  the  matter?"  I 
asked.  "This  is  no  place  for  a  woman. 
What  is  she  doing  here?" 

"What's  she  doin'?"  he  returned  fiercely. 
"What  do  you  reckon  she's  doin'?  She's 
lookin'  after  that  worthless  old  hellyon  over 


A  Betrayal  and  a  Rescue      199 

there;  that's  what  she's  doin'."  And  so  it 
proved;  for  in  a  few  moments  her  wander 
ing  eyes  found  the  abject  figure,  tottering 
helplessly  on  the  edge  of  the  shrill-yelling 
concourse.  He  was  receiving  no  attention, 
for  Blinky's  interrupted  speech  had  been  re 
sumed  and  was  better  worth  attention  than 
a  drunken  brother  in  wretchedness.  When 
she  saw  him  she  made  her  way  quickly  to  his 
side,  laying  her  hands  upon  his  arm,  and 
trying  to  persuade  him  to  go  away  with  her. 
In  his  crazed  mood  he  was  rebellious,  and 
struggled  as  well  as  he  could  against  her  de 
taining  grasp;  but  his  strength  was  at  low 
ebb;  little  by  little  she  half  forced  and  half 
coaxed  him  toward  their  tent,  supporting 
his  reeling  weight  upon  her  slight  shoulders. 
Archy  broke  into  a  fierce  oath  and  stepped 
out  of  the  shadows  where  we  were  concealed, 
I  at  his  side,  to  be  ready  in  case  of  need.  And 
the  need  speedily  arose;  for  the  old  man's 
besotted  mind  resented  his  wife's  interfer 
ence  with  his  liberty,  and  as  they  approached 
their  tent  his  struggles  grew  stronger,  so 
that  the  poor  little  woman  had  all  she  could 
do  in  keeping  him  and  herself  upright.  At 
last  he  wrenched  his  arm  from  her  grasp, 


2oo  Sons  of  Strength 

pushing  her  rudely  away,  crying  out  with 
brute  impatience  of  restraint.  The  effort 
made  him  totter;  but  he  recovered  himself, 
and  when  she  came  toward  him  again,  hold 
ing  out  her  hands  in  a  gesture  of  pleading, 
he  raised  his  heavy  hand  and  struck  her  upon 
the  uncovered  head,  and  she  fell  backward, 
her  head  striking  against  a  wheel  of  one  of 
the  wagons. 

What  followed  after  that  seems  clear' 
enough  in  my  memory,  until  I  try  to  tell  of 
it;  then  I  find  that  the  details  are  clouded 
and  uncertain,  like  the  details  of  a  dream.  I 
know  that  Archy  and  I  leaped  forward,  as 
though  moved  by  one  impulse,  caring  noth 
ing  where  we  were  going, — caring  only  for 
the  pitiful  figure  lying  quietly  where  it  had 
fallen.  And  if  the  old  man  thought  about 
the  matter  afterward,  it  must  have  seemed 
very  dreamlike  to  him,  too ;  for  in  an  instant 
after  he  had  struck  the  cowardly  blow,  and 
while  he  still  stood  looking  down  upon  the 
huddled  heap  that  was  his  wife,  and  trying 
to  gather  his  dazed  wits  together,  he  was 
confronted  by  the  towering  figure  of  his  son, 
whose  every  muscle  was  rigid  with  righteous 
rage,  and  whose  face  was  ablaze  with  long 


A  Betrayal  and  a  Rescue     201 

pent-up  hatred.  The  old  man  started  back, 
his  mud-fouled  face  full  of  a  sudden  terror. 
Before  he  had  time  to  think  of  protecting 
himself,  even  if  that  had  been  possible, 
Archy's  mighty  hands  had  laid  hold  of  him, 
had  lifted  him,  struggling  helplessly,  into 
the  air,  and  had  dashed  him  upon  the  ground, 
where  he  lay  motionless.  Then  very  ten 
derly,  though  with  all  haste,  Archy  raised 
the  body  of  his  mother  in  his  arms,  holding 
her  tight  against  his  breast,  and  we  ran  back 
to  the  shelter  of  the  trees,  going  rapidly 
northward  by  the  path  we  had  travelled  a 
half  hour  before. 

How  it  happened  I  cannot  say.  A  fight 
may  have  been  no  unusual  sight  there.  Per 
haps  we  were  not  seen.  The  enchantment 
of  Blinky  Meade's  sounding  words  may  have 
been  a  godsend  to  us,  after  all,  holding  the 
crowd  rapt.  Certainly  if  we  were  seen  we 
must  have  been  thought  members  of  the 
camp;  for  had  those  drink-maddened  men 
suspected  that  we  were  interlopers  from  the 
hated  Lawrence,  we  could  not  have  escaped 
as  we  did.  But  when  we  had  run  for  a  little 
distance  through  the  woodland,  and  paused 
for  a  moment  to  listen  for  sounds  of  pursuit, 


2O2  Sons  of  Strength 

we  heard  nothing  more  than  the  usual  noises 
— the  hum  of  rough  voices,  pierced  by  occa 
sional  shriller  outbursts  of  cheering  to  mark 
one  of  Blinky's  telling  sentences. 

Archy  fell  against  me,  panting  and  trem 
bling  violently;  though  that  could  not  have 
been  from  physical  exertion.  I  was  not  in 
much  better  plight ;  for  so  does  the  relaxation 
after  strong  excitement  work  upon  a  man. 

"Thank  God  A'mighty — we  come !"  Archy 
gasped.  "Oh — if  we  hadn't  come !" 

But  our  helpless  estate  did  not  long  con 
tinue.  Too  much  depended  upon  our  keep 
ing  our  wits  about  us,  and  our  muscles 
strung  for  action.  I  would  have  taken 
Archy's  burden  upon  myself  for  a  time,  but 
he  would  not  suffer  me  to  do  it. 

"You  keep  a  watch  for  horses,"  he  said. 
"Ours  are  too  far  away.  Horse-stealin'  ain't 
good  for  the  health  around  these  parts,  but 
we'll  have  to  borrow  a  couple,  if  we  can  find 
'em.  Three  miles  is  too  far  to  carry  her,  an' 
walkin's  too  slow." 

Horses  were  plentiful  enough.  I  soon 
found  a  little  band  which  had  been  tethered 
upon  open  land  within  the  town,  and  I  has 
tily  selected  the  two  that  seemed  best  able 


A  Betrayal  and  a  Rescue      203 

to  bear  us,  and  those  we  pressed  into  service, 
improvising  bridles  from  the  tether-ropes. 
Archy  wrapped  his  mother  as  securely  as  he 
could  in  his  outer  coat,  and  when  we  were 
mounted  his  arms  were  wholly  occupied  with 
holding  her;  so  I  led  his  horse  beside  my 
own,  and  in  that  fashion  we  rode  until  we 
reached  the  place  where  our  own  animals 
were  secreted.  Then  we  mounted,  turning 
the  others  adrift  to  find  their  way  back  to 
their  owners  as  best  they  could. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

A  REUNION  AND  A  SEPARATION 

ALTHOUGH  there  was  great  need  for  haste, 
as  a  means  to  safety  for  ourselves,  there  was 
still  greater  need  for  travelling  easily,  as  a 
means  to  the  comfort  of  our  charge.  She 
had  given  no  sign  of  conscious  life  since 
Archy  lifted  her  in  his  arms,  though  her 
heart  was  still  beating.  Until  we  should 
reach  a  surgeon,  we  could  know  nothing  of 
the  hurt  she  had  suffered;  but  to  ride  hard 
might  do  her  a  still  greater  hurt.  So  while 
Archy  did  his  best  to  keep  her  at  ease  in  his 
arms,  I  made  the  best  speed  I  dared  with  the 
horses. 

Thus  we  travelled  for  two  slow  hours.  It 
must  then  have  been  past  midnight ;  we  could 
only  guess  at  the  time.  There  had  been  noth 
ing  to  relieve  the  terrible  suspense,  save  that 
once,  when  Archy  tried  to  shift  the  inert 
weight  of  the  body  in  his  embrace,  to  give 
a  little  change  to  his  strained  and  stiffened 
muscles,  we  heard  a  feeble  moan  escape  the 


A  Reunion  and  a  Separation  205 

pallid  lips;  and  then  again  Archy  breathed 
a  fervent  and  honest  "Thank  God!"  Even 
a  moan  of  suffering  may  be  a  pleasant  sound 
sometimes. 

We  had  gone  perhaps  two-thirds  of  the 
way  from  Franklin  to  Lawrence  when  for 
the  second  time  that  night  I  heard  the  dis 
quieting  sound  of  a  horse's  approach  from 
our  rear.  And  this  time  also  the  sound  be 
trayed  the  fact  that  he  who  approached  was 
riding  alone.  We  had  not  much  to  fear; 
which  was  very  fortunate,  for  we  were  in 
a  narrow  part  of  the  road  where  we  could 
not  have  escaped,  however  formidable  the 
appearance  of  an  attack.  I  drew  my  pistol 
and  held  it  ready  for  use  in  my  hand,  for 
safety  against  surprise ;  and  when  the  horse 
man  had  come  so  near  that  I  could  distin 
guish  his  form  clearly,  I  called  to  him  to 
halt.  The  demand  must  have  come  unex 
pectedly.  The  stranger  drew  rein  so  sharply 
that  he  pulled  his  beast  almost  upon  its 
haunches,  and  ere  it  had  quite  recovered  its 
feet,  a  pistol  flashed  spitefully  in  the  rider's 
hand,  and  my  broad  hat  flew  from  my  head, 
falling  somewhere  in  the  dark  road. 
That  was  not  a  time  for  deliberate  thought. 


206  Sons  of  Strength 

On  the  instant,  my  pistol  answered  his,  and 
I  saw  him  fall  heavily  from  his  saddle,  and 
heard  him  strike  the  mud  of  the  road,  while 
his  terrified  horse  wheeled  about  and  went 
flying  back  toward  Franklin.  Never  before 
had  I  used  a  weapon  against  a  man :  I  was 
seized  with  a  cold  chill  of  fear, — which  was 
not  very  seemly,  perhaps,  and  which  may  not 
be  explained  to  those  who  have  not  endured 
such  a  moment  for  themselves.  My  first  im 
pulse  was  for  wild  flight;  but  Archy  quieted 
my  quaking  heart. 

'"Get  down  an'  look  after  him !  What  are 
you  settin'  there  for?  He's  lyin'  still 
enough :  there's  nothin'  to  be  afraid  of.  Get 
down!" 

I  obeyed  in  a  dazed  mechanical  way.  The 
fallen  man  lay  at  full  length  in  the  mire,  his 
face  upturned,  and  near  the  middle  of  his 
broad  white  forehead  was  the  mark  of  my 
bullet.  The  glance  that  showed  me  that 
mark  showed  me  also  that  the  dead  man  was 
Blinky  Meade.  To  this  time,  in  those  night 
hours  when  sleep  is  delayed,  I  can  see  that 
face  of  ghastly  whiteness,  stained  with  the 
little  ooze  of  blood  from  the  round  bullet- 
wound. 


A  Reunion  and  a  Separation  207 

I  spoke  to  Archy  calmly, — a  very  unnat 
ural  calm, — telling  him  who  thermanwas,and 
that  he  was  quite  dead.  There  was  nothing 
for  me  to  do  but  to  drag  the  body  to  the  road 
side  and  leave  it  for  after-care.  We  must  go 
on  with  our  living  burden ;  we  could  not  take 
the  dead  body  with  us;  our  horses  were  al 
ready  overladen.  And  there  we  left  him, 
lying  upon  his  back  in  the  mud; — Blinky 
Meade,  the  brown-eyed  boy  who  had  sat 
with  me  under  the  trees  in  the  asylum  yard, 
eating  my  apples ;  Blinky  Meade,  the  strange 
little  fellow  who  had  been  used  to  see  visions 
and  interpret  them  to  me;  Blinky  Meade, 
who  as  a  man  had  thought  to  make  a  proud 
place  for  himself  in  a  proud  world.  I  won 
dered  whether  his  family  of  angels  had  at 
last  become  real  to  him  and  would  care  for 
him.  Since  that  wild  night  I  have  never  of 
my  own  will  killed  any  living  creature. 

Archy's  mind  was  not  concerned  with  the 
dead.  "Say!"  he  said  with  sudden  resolu 
tion  as  we  took  up  our  interrupted  ride; 
"we'll  have  to  stop  at  the  next  house.  It's 
safe  enough  now,  likely,  an'  we'll  save  time 
for  her  by  doin'  it.  We're  gettin'  pretty  near 
to  Lawrence;  they're  likely  to  be  friends 


208  Sons  of  Strength 

along  here,  an'  we  can  get  somebody  to  ride 
ahead  an'  fetch  a  doctor ;  then  she  won't  have 
to  stand  any  more  of  this  infernal  joggling." 

We  came  to  a  house  before  long.  It  was 
darkened,  but  in  answer  to  my  persistent 
shouts  a  cautious  light  soon  appeared,  and 
we  learned  that  we  had  found  friends.  We 
carried  the  still  unconscious  body  into  the 
house,  where  the  women  took  it  under  their 
care;  and  a  young  man,  mounted  upon  a 
fresh  horse,  started  in  hot  haste  for  Law 
rence,  to  summon  a  surgeon  and  to  bear  news 
to  John  Brown  of  what  had  occurred.  This 
last  was  by  Archy's  suggestion. 

"Brown  '11  know  what  it  means,"  he  said 
to  me.  "If — if  Dad  ain't — if  he  comes 
around  all  right,  so  as  to  be  able  to  talk,  some 
of  them  fellows'll  follow  us  this  morning. 
They'll  be  along  most  any  time.  Brown  '11 
know  that,  an'  he'll  know  what  to  do.  He 
won't  leave  us  alone.  You'll  see!"  Truly 
his  was  a  wise  head,  his  wit  matched  to 
every  emergency.  Never  did  I  know  it  to 
fail  him;  though  that  seemed  an  unlikely 
thing,  judging  him  by  appearances. 

Matched  to  all  emergencies  ?  To  all  save 
one.  For  when  his  mother  had  been  re- 


A  Reunion  and  a  Separation   209 

lieved  of  her  cold  drenched  clothing  and  laid 
in  bed,  and  Archy  went  to  her  bedside,  there 
was  an  emergency  beyond  his  resources.  He 
called  to  me  that  I  should  join  him,  and 
when  I  went  in  he  seemed  in  sore  need  of  me, 
for  he  grasped  at  my  hand  like  a  frightened 
child,  and  clung  to  it  as  though  for  sup 
port. 

"You  stay  here  with  me,  Pardner,"  he 
said.  "I  can't  bear  this  kind  of  thing,  by 
myself.  Please  don't  go  away." 

It  was  a  trial  to  unnerve  the  strongest. 
The  wan  worn  face  lying  upon  the  pillow 
before  us  seemed  hardly  mortal,  so  frail  it 
was,  so  overshadowed  by  a  long  life  full  of 
patient  suffering,  and  so  terribly  pathetic  in 
its  almost  lifeless  lethargy.  The  pallid  light 
of  our  one  poor  candle  cast  such  strange 
shadows  upon  the  thin  features,  while  our 
own  shadows  upon  the  wall  were  so  vast  and 
burly. 

"Oh !"  the  poor  son  groaned.  "My  God ! 
I  wish  she'd  wake  up !  Don't  she  look  aw 
ful?" 

But  she  was  a  long  time  in  rising1  to  life's 
surface.  Sometimes  she  would  stir  uneasily 
and  her  pale  lips  would  move,  but  no  sound 


210  Sons  of  Strength 

came  from  them.  For  an  unmeasured  time 
we  sat,  one  upon  either  side  of  the  bed, 
hardly  speaking  a  word,  but  waiting  for  the 
unknown  issue. 

At  last,  when  I  had  almost  abandoned  ex 
pecting  it,  her  sunken  eyes  came  open  with  a 
start,  as  though  a  sharp  sound  had  aroused 
her  from  heavy  sleep.  Her  glance  went 
wildly  around  the  unfamiliar  room,  to  rest 
at  last  upon  my  face ;  but  she  seemed  to  get 
no  comfort  from  looking  at  me,  and  her 
eyes  were  taking  on  a  dull  fixed  stare  when 
I  beckoned  to  Archy. 

"Speak  to  her;  quick!"  I  urged;  and  he 
bent  over,  calling  softly,  "Mammy!  Dear 
old  Mammy!  Here's  your  big  baby  come 
back." 

No  magic  so  strong  as  the  voice  of  a  loved 
one,  whose  softest  tone  can  reach  to  the 
greatest  depths  of  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death.  So  did  his  voice  recall  her. 

"Archy !"  she  breathed,  and  her  head  was 
pillowed  upon  his  broad  breast,  her  poor 
thin  hands  clinging  to  his  great  neck,  while 
his  cheek  was  laid  fondly  upon  her  hair. 
"You've  been  a  weary  long  time  comin', 


A  Reunion  and  a  Separation  211 

deary,"  she  crooned.  "I  thought  you'd  for 
gotten  old  Mammy!" 

He  could  not  speak.  Words  were  sunk 
into  the  depths  of  his  suffering  soul.  He 
could  only  cling  to  her,  straining  her  to  his 
side.  But  after  a  little  silence,  she  appeared 
to  find  memory  awakening,  for  she  drew 
away  from  him,  looking  at  him  with  vague 
doubt;  then  looking  around  the  room  in 
quest  of  something  she  could  not  see. 
"Where  is — he?"  she  asked  weakly. 

"Dad?"  Archy  answered  with  brave 
cheerfulness.  "Oh,  he's  all  right,  Mammy; 
don't  you  worry.  He'll  come  pokin'  along 
pretty  soon.  You  just  lie  still."  And  that 
she  was  content  to  do  for  the  present, 
though  I  could  see  that  little  by  little  her 
scattered  consciousness  returned  to  her. 

"Archy,"  she  said  at  last;  "nothin'  has — 
happened  to  him?" 

"Everything's  all  right,  Mammy,"  he  re 
peated;  and  in  her  weakened  state  that  was 
enough  to  soothe  her  for  a  little  while.  But 
restless  phantoms  seemed  to  rise  and  haunt 
her.  Slowly,  again  and  again,  while  she  lay 
against  his  breast,  a  mist  would  settle  over 
her  eyes,  growing  deeper,  until  she  would 


212  Sons  of  Strength 

stir  uneasily,  striving  to  cast  it  off,  as  one 
struggles  against  the  overpowering  spell  of 
a  drowsy  drug. 

And  a  mighty  drug  was  finding  its  way 
into  her  blood ; — the  mightiest  that  ever  was. 
By  and  by  she  seemed  to  realize  this,  for  with 
all  her  little  strength  she  raised  herself  in 
bed,  and  free  from  Archy's  arms,  and  sat 
looking  fixedly  at  him ;  then  with  a  helpless 
wild  cry  she  threw  herself  upon  him,  hiding 
her  face.  "My  baby !  I  thank  the  kind  God 
I  have  found  you  before  I  die.  I  must  tell 
you  now." 

He  tried  with  his  gentlest  caresses  to  re 
store  her  to  quiet ;  but  she  stopped  him,  hold 
ing  his  hands  locked  fast  m  her  own.  "Lis 
ten!"  she  cried.  "I'll  soon  be  gone,  deary; 
I  know  it.  Don't  talk ;  you  must  listen !  It's 
about — your  little  brother." 

His  eyes  were  imploring  me  for  aid ;  but  I 
could  give  him  none.  "There,  there;  don't 
talk  so,  Mammy,"  he  pleaded.  "Say,  don't 
you  remember  Pokey,  over  there?  He's 
been  mighty  good  to  me.  You  remember 
him,  don't  you  ? — the  fellow  that  took  me  in 
his  wagon?"  Briefly  she  glanced  at  me, 


A  Reunion  and  a  Separation  213 

stretching  toward  me  one  cold  hand,  which 
I  clasped  and  held  fast  until  the  end. 

"No !"  she  said  sharply ;  "you  must  listen 
to  me !  You  must  know !  I  have  never  told 
you ;  but  I  must  tell  you  now." 

And  then,  while  life  ebbed  slowly  from 
her,  she  told  him  what  she  sought  to  tell, — 
speaking  not  all  at  once  and  smoothly,  but 
with  broken  ragged  sentences,  and  gasping 
sometimes  for  breath  to  form  the  next  word ; 
— told  what  I  have  told  in  the  beginning  of 
this  story,  of  the  day  when  I  awoke  from 
babyhood,  a  desolate  waif  before  the  gates  of 
the  asylum.  While  she  talked  I  listened 
with  dry  lips  parted,  with  heart  near  burst 
ing,  with  the  blood  roaring  in  my  ears.  My 
thoughts  were  beyond  all  power  of  telling. 

"Archy,  my  baby!"  she  breathed  at  last 
very  faintly;  "we  were  so  poor,  so  starved, 
and  it  seemed  best.  Oh,  I  can't  tell  you! 
And  then,  when  we  were  no  longer  hungry, 
— I  wasn't  sure — Dear  Archy,  I  didn't  try 
to  find  him.  I  hoped  he  would  grow  to  be  a 
good  man,  and  I  wanted  to  save  him  from — 
his  father,  as  I  would  have  saved  you,  if  I 
could.  Oh,  my  children,  my  children !" 

That  was  the  last.     Her  strength  failed 


214  Sons  of  Strength 

her  utterly,  and  she  sank  back  shivering 
upon  her  pillow. 

'"Mother!  My  Mother!"  I  cried  from  my 
knees  by  the  bedside.  "Here  I  am !  Look  at 
me!  I  am  your  son!" 

Did  she  hear  me?  Stronger  than  any 
other  of  my  hopes  in  this  life  has  been  the 
hope  that  she  did  hear  me,  and  that  she  un 
derstood.  I  have  tried  to  think  that  her 
dear  hand,  as  I  bent  my  throbbing  forehead 
upon  it,  gave  to  my  own  hand  a  little  an 
swering  pressure ;  but  it  may  have  been  only 
the  pulseless  rigour  of  death.  When  I  found 
the  strength  to  draw  myself  up  to  gaze  into 
her  face,  I  saw  that  the  patient  gray  eyes 
were  already  looking  upon  other  scenes  than 
those  of  this  troubled  earth. 

And  there,  while  the  feeble  light  of  the 
candle  was  drowning  in  the  broader  light  of 
the  gray  dawn,  Archy  and  I,  kneeling, 
looked  across  the  body  of  our  peaceful  dead 
into  one  another's  eyes,  and  the  lips  of  each 
formed  the  sacred  word,  Brother. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

IN   THE  VALLEY   OF   SHADOWS 

LIFE  is  very  strange, — a  deep  and  won 
derful  puzzle,  past  all  the  power  of  our  poor 
wits  to  solve.  At  the  best,  we  must  take  so 
many  things  for  granted;  believing,  if  we 
can,  that  our  destiny  is  formed  according  to 
God's  clear  inevitable  sight.  We  think  all 
would  be  so  easy  if  our  days  moved  forward 
with  smoothness  and  certainty  to  an  end  al 
ways  in  our  view,  as  we  foolishly  dream  they 
might  move  had  we  our  own  will.  I  have 
sometimes  rebelled  bitterly  against  my  utter 
helplessness  and  blindness,  and  have  longed 
to  shape  things  for  myself,  thinking  how 
strong  and  sure  my  life  must  then  be;  and 
sometimes  I  have  been  glad  that  I  must  walk 
with  all  humankind  by  hidden  paths.  But  it 
is  a  test  of  strength  greater  than  mine  to  be 
able  to  look  with  calm  fortitude  into  the  face 
of  each  new  day  and  circumstance  and  to 
say  to  each,  God's  will  be  done  concerning 
you.  Sometimes  God  speaks  to  men  out  of 


2i6  Sons  of  Strength 

the  whirlwind;  sometimes  He  says  to  the 
tempest,  Peace,  be  still.  I  like  to  believe  that 
if  we  listen  we  shall  not  fail  to  hear  His 
voice,  and  shall  find  that  His  word  is  always 
sweet  and  just. 

She  my  dead  mother,  and  he  my  living 
brother ; — yes,  and  that  other  my  father !  I 
could  not  realize  these  things;  my  under 
standing  was  obscured  by  a  gloomy  fog  of 
doubt.  I  hid  my  face  in  the  coverlet  of  the 
bed  where  the  body  of  my  mother  lay,  and 
was  lost  in  the  mazes  of  wonder  and  despair. 
By  and  by  I  felt  a  light  touch  upon  my 
shoulder,  and  found  that  Archy  was  kneel 
ing  by  my  side.  He  was  crying,  tears  of 
mingled  holy  sorrow  and  deep  joy  shining  in 
his  eyes  and  upon  his  cheeks,  he  making  no 
trial  to  check  or  hide  them. 

"Brother  Pokey!"  he  said  softly.  "It's 
just  you  and  me  now.  We'll  have  to  be  a 
heap  to  each  other,  won't  we?"  With  hands 
clasped  and  with  lips  locked  by  awed  silence, 
we  sat  together  for  a  long  time,  while  the 
wintry  day  broadened.  I  do  not  remember 
what  we  said,  or  if  we  spoke  at  all.  There 
was  no  need  that  we  should  speak.  There 
come  times  in  life  when  speech  seems  only 


In  the  Valley  of  Shadows     217 

dumb  show; — when  the  clasp  of  a  faithful 
hand  or  the  glance  of  true  eyes  is  all  we  ask. 
Time  had  no  claim  upon  us  as  we  knelt; 
time  seemed  suspended  in  the  vast  duration 
of  eternity,  save  that  the  gray  of  dawn  was 
slowly  yielding  place  to  white  day. 

After  a  long  time  I  asked,  "What  shall 
we  do,  Archy?" 

"I've  been  thinking  about  that,"  my 
brother  answered  me.  "I  don't  know  as 
there's  anything  to  do  now,  but  bury  her. 
You  and  me  can  do  that.  She'd  like  to  have 
us,  I  know,  just  by  ourselves,  and  we'd 
rather  do  it,  wouldn't  we  ?  I  wouldn't  want 
to  take  her  away  from  here ;  would  you  ?  I 
feel  like  this  place  is  best,  right  here  where 
we've  all  found  each  other.  Don't  you  feel 
that?" 

"Yes,"  I  said ;  and  we  arose  and  set  about 
the  simple  duties  of  preparing  the  poor  body 
for  its  grave. 

While  we  were  thus  busied,  there  was  a 
sudden  commotion  of  shouts  and  quick  foot 
steps  in  the  yard  without.  The  door  of  our 
room  was  opened  hastily,  though  with 
thoughtful  quiet,  and  there  entered  the 
young  man  who  had  been  our  messenger  to 


2 1 8  Sons  of  Strength 

Lawrence.  When  he  saw  the  truth,  his 
ruddy  face  bore  honest  compassion ;  but  his 
present  errand  would  brook  no  delay  of  tell 
ing. 

"They're  coming!"  he  cried.  "There's  a 
good  many  of  'em,  not  more  than  a  mile 
away,  and  they're  riding  as  hard  as  they  can. 
I  saw  'em  from  the  last  hill,  as  I  came  down. 
What  do  you  want  to  do  ?" 

We  looked  at  one  another,  and  I  saw  that 
Archy  had  shaken  himself  free  from  his 
softer  mood  and  that  his  thoughts  were 
moving  with  certainty. 

"Do  you  want  to  hide?"  the  boy  asked. 
"There's  a  good  place  in  the  ravine  out  back 
of  the  barn-yard,  where  they'll  never  find 
you  before  Brown  gets  here  with  his  men. 
He's  coming,  right  away.  He  had  a  dozen 
of  his  fellows  saddling  up  when  I  left  Law 
rence.  Or  you  might  ride  on  up  toward  Law 
rence,  and  meet  him  coming  down.  But 
you'll  have  to  hurry,  if  that's  what  you  want 
to  do.  There's  no  time  to  waste  thinking 
about  it." 

Archy  shook  his  head  in  answer  to  the 
boy's  suggestion.  "No,"  he  said.  "We'll 
stay  here.  We  ain't  goin'  to  leave  her,  are 


In  the  Valley  of  Shadows    219 

we,  Pokey?  But  we  don't  want  to  mix  you 
folks  up  in  our  fight,  if  we  can  help  it. 
Pokey,  where's  your  pistol?" 

My  heavy  revolver  was  belted  to  my  side. 
Archy  drew  his  own  weapon  from  the  pocket 
of  the  coat  which  had  been  wrapped  about 
our  mother. 

"We're  all  right!"  he  cried  with  a  light 
mirthless  laugh  of  nervous  excitement. 
"Come  on;  let's  go  out.  You  folks  keep 
inside,  out  of  sight  from  the  road.  They 
won't  be  likely  to  bother  you.  It's  me  they 
want." 

Together  we  left  the  house  and  walked 
down  to  the  roadside.  There  was  abundant 
shelter  amongst  the  trees  and  behind  the 
rude  frontier  fence,  and  there  we  crouched 
for  a  time,  peering  down  the  road,  waiting 
for  the  advance  of  the  party  from  Franklin. 

"It's  just  you  and  me  now,  Pokey,"  Archy 
repeated.  "It's  a  funny  mix-up,  ain't  it  ?  I 
wish  to  God  I  knew  what's  goin'  to  happen. 
No,  I  don't,  either.  I'm  ready  for  anything 
now;  but  I  mightn't  be  ready  if  I  knew 
what's  comin'.  Do  you  reckon  it'll  be  both 
of  us?  If  it's  got  to  be  one,  I  hope  it'll  be 
both;  don't  you?"  But  I  thought  of  Eliza- 


22O  Sons  of  Strength 

beth,  and  my  thoughts  choked  my  answer 
to  his  question.  In  that  brief  moment  of 
self-inquiry,  I  found  that  life  was  still  very 
sweet  and  dear  to  me. 

Not  a  very  long  time  passed  before  we 
heard  the  party  approaching,  so  tell-tale  was 
the  muddy  road ;  and  then  they  appeared  in 
sight, — a  score  of  men,  bedraggled  and 
wretched,  but  grimly  threatening  in  aspect, 
with  rifles  slung  across  their  saddles,  and 
with  smaller  arms  showing  plentifully  in 
each  man's  belt.  They  were  riding  warily, 
knowing  that  they  were  near  to  Lawrence 
and  in  a  dangerous  neighborhood;  though 
they  seemed  not  to  suspect  that  we  were  so 
close  at  hand, 

As  they  drew  nearer,  Archy  clutched  my 
wrist  fiercely.  "There's  Dad,  right  square 
in  front!"  he  cried.  His  voice  was  tense  as 
steel.  "Pokey,  you've  got  to  keep  your 
hands  down  till  I  tell  you.  It's  my  first 
shot !"  All  his  wild  instincts  had  possession 
of  him,  and  I  found  myself  powerless, 
though  I  tried  to  speak  with  rational  calm. 

"Keep  still!"  I  urged.  "They  don't  ex 
pect  to  find  us  here.  Let  them  go  past. 
They'll  go  on  up  the  road  and  meet  Brown's 


In  the  Valley  of  Shadows     221 

party.  It  would  be  madness  to  expose  our 
selves  here."  But  he  did  not  seem  to  com 
prehend. 

"Remember,  now;  it's  my  first  shot! 
Thank  God !  Oh,  Dad,  Dad;  I've  got  a  lot 
to  settle  with  you!  Hands  down,  Pokey. 
You  got  the  preacher;  it's  my  turn  now." 
He  laid  his  pistol  against  a  rail  of  the  fence, 
glancing  hungrily  along  its  barrel. 

"Archy!"  I  pleaded.     "Not  that  way!" 

"Hush !"  he  said.  "Don't  you  be  afraid. 
I'm  goin'  to  fight  fair.  I  never  was  much 
of  a  sneak,  and  I  ain't  goin'  to  sneak  now." 

The  horsemen  were  so  near  us  that 
Archy 's  last  words  were  spoken  almost  in  a 
whisper.  Then,  before  I  could  guess  what 
he  was  about,  he  arose,  vaulted  over  the 
fence  into  the  open  road,  and  stood  in  full 
view  of  all. 

The  old  man  drew  rein  sharply,  involun 
tarily  dropping  his  hand  to  grasp  the  pistol 
which  hung  in  its  holster.  He  was  trem 
bling  with  an  ague  of  sudden  fright;  but 
Archy's  hand,  as  it  swung  its  weapon  aloft 
and  dropped  the  barrel  to  the  level  of  the  old 
man's  breast,  was  rigid  as  the  brown  earth. 

Truly  we  do  walk  by  hidden  paths.     In 


222  Sons  of  Strength 

that  supreme  moment,  while  the  bitter 
wrongs  of  his  life  surged  in  his  heart, 
Archy  proved  himself  a  man.  A  sharp 
gasping  oath  escaped  his  drawn  lips,  and  his 
pistol  went  whirling  through  the  air,  falling 
harmlessly  a  long  way  off. 

"You  shoot,  Dad,"  he  cried.  "I'll  be 
damned  if  I  can!"  Then  he  stood  firmly 
awaiting  what  should  befall  him. 

If  I  had  been  at  all  afraid,  all  fear  left 
me  at  that.  For  fear,  and  every  other  base 
thing,  departs  from  the  heart  of  a  man  when 
he  ceases  to  think  of  himself ;  and  as  I  looked 
at  my  brother  standing  before  me  with  his 
resolute  face  turned  undaunted  toward 
death,  the  echo  of  his  heroic  cry  still  in  my 
ears,  my  every  thought  was  of  him.  Before 
I  knew  it,  I  was  over  the  fence  and  by  his 
side,  hoping  to  protect  him,  though  not 
knowing  how  that  might  be  accomplished  in 
the  face  of  so  many  enemies; — meaning  to 
die  with  him,  if  nothing  better  offered. 

The  old  man,  our  father, — how  strange  it 
seems  to  call  so  foul  a  creature  by  that  beau 
tiful  name! — our  father  had  at  last  worked 
his  pistol  loose  from  its  confining  holster, 
and  he  now  held  it  in  his  uplifted  hand. 


223 

while  he  gloated  upon  the  presence  of  the 
defenseless  man  before  him,  and  upon  the 
nearness  of  his  revenge.  He  did  not  deign 
to  look  at  me;  his  eyes  were  wholly  con 
cerned  with  Archy.  He  was  quivering  with 
the  exultation  which  thrills  a  man  when  he 
nears  the  accomplishment  of  a  fixed  purpose, 
good  or  bad.  When  he  spoke,  his  voice  was 
vibrant  with  the  same  passion, 

"You  brat  of  the  devil!  I  hoped  heaven 
would  give  me  this  chance  before  hell 
yawned  to  claim  you!"  His  vile  blasphe 
mies  choked  his  throat  and  strangled  them 
selves  from  further  utterance.  With  a  fierce 
gesture  he  lowered  his  weapon,  taking  as 
careful  aim  as  he  could  with  his  nerveless 
hand.  I  threw  myself  before  Archy,  holding 
up  my  arms  to  make  the  old  man  look  at 
me. 

"Wait !"  I  cried.  "Listen  to  me  first ;  then 
shoot  if  you  will." 

When  he  saw  who  I  was: — "You  too!" 
he  bellowed  in  fury.  "Stand  aside !  I'll  kill 
him  first,  and  you  next.  Get  out  of  the 
way!" 

"Listen!"  I  shouted  strenuously.  "You 
must  listen,  father — father! — " 


224  Sons  of  Strength 

Ere  I  could  say  more,  strong  hands  were 
laid  upon  my  shoulders  and  I  was  swept 
helplessly  aside.  "Pokey,"  Archy  said 
quietly;  "don't  stain  your  soul,  callin'  him 
that!" 

A  sudden  commotion  of  panic  seized  upon 
those  who  had  been  idle  onlookers,  and  a 
cry  went  up, — "Look  out !  There  come  the 
soldiers!"  and  with  the  panic  fresh  upon 
them  those  doughty  warriors  wheeled  their 
horses  about  in  the  road  and  broke  into  ig 
nominious  disordered  flight.  Fled,  all  save 
one.  The  old  man  did  not  heed ;  perhaps  he 
did  not  hear.  He  held  his  horse  firmly  in 
check;  his  levelled  pistol  flashed, — flashed 
once,  twice,  and  Archy  fell  heavily  against 
me. 

"Dad!  For  God's  sake!"  he  gasped. 
"Shoot  straighter!  You've  killed — her; 
now  kill  me — quick !" 

Something  made  the  old  man  hear  those 
low  words.  His  face  went  white  as  death, 
his  hand  fell  to  his  side,  and  he  sank  forward 
in  his  saddle. 

"Killed — her!"  he  screamed.  "Almighty 
God!  Where  is  she?" 

"Yonder,"    Archy    answered,    with    life 


In  the  Valley  of  Shadows    225 

sinking  low  in  his  voice,  and  I  silently 
pointed  toward  the  little  house  where  our 
mother's  body  lay.  With  a  groan  the 
wretched  man  got  from  his  horse  and  stag 
gered  up  the  pathway  to  the  door,  which  he 
beat  open  and  then  vanished  within. 

Brown  and  his  men  were  near.  As  I  lifted 
Archy  away  to  the  side  of  the  road  and  laid 
him  gently  down,  they  galloped  up,  Brown 
himself  at  the  front,  and  beside  him  John 
Hale. 

"Be  quick!"  was  Brown's  imperative  or 
der.  "What's  the  meaning  of  this?  Is  the 
man  dead?" 

"God  knows,"  I  answered  sadly ;  for  con 
sciousness  was  gone  from  Archy's  face,  and 
his  head  lay  with  a  lifeless  weight  against 
my  breast  as  I  knelt  beside  him. 

"Quick!"  Brown  thundered.  "Tell  me 
what  it  means.  Who  did  it?" 

The  words  leaped  to  my  lips;  but  there 
they  hung.  I  knew  that  if  I  spoke,  justice 
would  be  swift  and  terrible.  I  thought  of 
what  was  going  forward  within  the  house. 
She  was  my  mother,  and  this  was  my 
brother  clasped  in  my  hungry  arms,  perhaps 
with  life  gone  out  of  him.  Yes,  truly;  but 


226  Sons  of  Strength 

that  other  was  my  father.  With  this  wild 
tumult  of  thoughts  and  passions  raging  in 
my  soul,  the  words  that  should  betray  the 
murderer  would  not  be  spoken.  We  are 
troubled  over  many  things.  The  lightest 
cloud  in  summer  skies  will  cast  a  shadow, 
and  the  recurring  shadows  fret  us.  But  wild 
whirlwinds  and  devastating  storms  are  not 
things  of  every  day. 

The  riderless  horse,  left  to  take  its  own 
unhindered  way,  and  brought  to  complete 
weariness  by  the  hard  forced  journey,  lin 
gered  near  us  in  the  road,  pricking  its  ears 
with  half-fright,  yet  heedless  of  flight.  Some 
of  Brown's  men  espied  it. 

"Whose  horse  is  that?"  Brown  asked;  and 
when  I  did  not  answer,  he  turned  toward 
the  house.  "They  can  tell  us  something  in 
there,"  he  said  to  Hale.  "Come  with  me." 
They  rode  toward  the  gate;  but  I  arose  and 
barred  the  way  when  they  would  have  dis 
mounted  to  enter. 

"Gentlemen!"  I  cried  with  a  firmness 
which  surprised  myself;  "gentlemen,  you 
must  not  go  in  there  now.  A  woman  has 
just  died.  To  go  in  upon  such  an  errand 
at  this  time  would  be  heartless." 


In  the  Valley  of  Shadows    227 

Brown's  eyes  were  searching  my  face 
keenly.  "Tell  us  who  shot  this  man,"  he 
said,  "and  where  he  has  gone.  We  want 
him.  Our  duty  is  with  him,  if  he  is  alive, 
and  not  with  dead  women." 

As  I  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  their 
stern  faces,  my  answer  was  slow  in  coming, 
and  was  not  very  satisfactory  to  me  when  it 
came,  for  it  was  only  a  simulation  of  the 
truth.  "I  cannot  tell  you  where  he  is,"  I 
said;  "but  you  must  not  go  into  the  house." 

Hale  spoke  kindly.  "I  know  this  man," 
he  said  to  Brown;  and  then  to  me:  "Give 
me  your  word,  Pokey,  that  he  is  not  in  the 
house,  and  we'll  not  go  in." 

In  an  instant  my  thoughts  flashed  back 
to  the  old  days  when  I  was  a  little  child  and 
sat  by  John  Hale's  side  beneath  the  trees  in 
the  asylum  yard,  listening  while  he  taught 
me  to  speak  the  truth.  I  set  my  back  against 
the  closed  gate,  holding  my  pistol  ready  in 
my  hand. 

"No,"  I  said;  "I  will  not  tell  you  that. 
But  you  shall  not  go  in.  I  will  kill  you  first ; 
or  you  must  kill  me.  I  have  found  my  father, 
Hale,  and  I  will  not  give  him  up  to  you." 

But  such  argument  could  avail  nothing 


228  Sons  of  Strength 

against  Brown's  stern  faith,  which  regarded 
no  earthly  ties, — which  regarded  neither 
death  nor  life.  Without  a  word  he  gave 
his  bridle-rein  to  Hale,  then  swung  himself 
to  the  ground  and  came  toward  me,  his  com 
pelling  eyes  fixing  mine,  his  lips  set  grimly. 
He  was  unarmed;  his  weapons  he  had  left 
in  their  pockets  on  his  saddle.  Yet  I  could 
not  fire ;  my  finger  upon  the  trigger  was  im 
potent.  When  he  was  at  arm's-length  from 
me,  he  held  out  his  hand. 

"Give  me  that  pistol,"  he  said  in  the  tone 
of  a  master  of  men ;  and  he  took  it  from  my 
unresisting  grasp.  "You  would  better  look 
after  the  needs  of  that  wounded  man.  Some 
of  my  men  will  help  you."  Then,  at  his  com 
mand,  three  or  four  of  the  others  followed 
him  to  the  house. 

They  were  too  late  to  find  him  whom  they 
sought.  He  had  escaped  from  the  house  and 
had  entered  the  deep  ravine  at  the  rear  of 
the  barn-yard.  When  this  was  discovered, 
Brown  summoned  all  his  little  band  for  pur 
suit.  I  do  not  know  whether  their  quest 
was  successful ;  for  none  ever  offered  to  tell 
me,  and  I  have  never  dared  to  ask. 


CHAPTER  XX 

PEACE 

AND  now  I  draw  near  to  the  end ;  and  the 
end  is  like  a  long  deep  breath  of  peace  and 
quiet  after  ardent  strife.  I  am  glad  that  it 
is  so.  I  have  always  liked  to  think  that  the 
end  of  all  our  mortal  struggle  and  endeavour 
will  come  to  us  softly,  tenderly, — not  as  a 
shrill  shout  of  death  swallowed  up  in  vic 
tory,  but  as  the  cool  and  calm  of  a  summer 
night  after  sultry  day.  Such  seems  a  fit 
ting  end  for  my  story. 

When  the  bitterness  of  our  conflict  was 
past,  and  when  Brown's  men  were  assem 
bled  for  their  return  to  Lawrence,  I  begged 
that  they  would  dig  the  grave  for  my  moth 
er's  body ;  and  that  they  did,  at  a  place  which 
I  chose  within  the  sheltering  woodland  near 
by.  Her  burial  was  simple;  but  if  God  re 
gards  such  things,  I  know  it  was  acceptable 
to  Him.  I  think  that  the  memory  of  that 
hour  must  outlast  my  life  itself.  The  pic 
ture  is  strongly  before  me  now,  with  those 


230  Sons  of  Strength 

stern-lipped  men  standing  uncovered  about 
the  grave,  while  John  Brown  lifted  up  his 
noble  face  toward  heaven  and  prayed  that  we 
who  lived  might  keep  until  the  end  our 
strength  for  doing  our  duty,  and  that  we 
might  at  last  find  the  sweet  peace  which  had 
fallen  upon  the  dead.  It  was  very  beautiful 
and  very  wonderful  to  me. 

We  had  borne  Archy  into  the  house  and 
laid  him  upon  the  bed  made  vacant  by  my 
mother's  burial.  When  Brown  left  us  with 
his  men,  there  being  nothing  that  he  could 
do  to  aid  us  after  that,  he  promised  to  send 
a  surgeon;  and  the  surgeon  came  in  due 
time. 

Archy  was  still  alive,  and  his  heart  was 
going  on  somewhat  with  its  labour.  At  first 
the  surgeon  would  not  even  hint  at  hope, — 
perhaps  with  a  jealous  eye  upon  his  reputa 
tion  for  prophecy;  but  as  the  slow  hours 
passed  and  another  night  drew  on  toward 
morning,  he  ceased  to  talk  of  death  alone, 
and  began  to  speak  half-willingly  of  chance 
for  life.  Through  it  all  I  did  not  once  aban 
don  determination  that  my  brother  should 
live.  His  mighty  mold  was  in  his  favour, 
and  as  the  hours  grew  into  days,  he  seemed 


Peace  231 

to  take  a  firm  hold  upon  the  desire  to  dwell 
yet  a  little  longer  with  us  who  shared  his 
mortality.  He  was  for  a  long  time  in  that 
state  where  a  strong  man  may  choose  which 
ever  path  he  will;  and  by  and  by  he  chose 
that  which  led  him  back  to  life. 

I  did  not  leave  his  bedside.  That  was  our 
mutual  wish.  His  grasp  upon  the  tattered 
threads  of  vitality  seemed  to  weaken  when  I 
was  not  within  range  of  his  faithful  eyes. 
When  he  would  fall  wearily  asleep,  his  last 
glance  would  be  at  me ;  and  when  he  awoke, 
his  eyes'  first  quest  was  for  my  face  bending 
above  him. 

As  he  grew  stronger,  I  saw  that  restless 
ness  possessed  him.  He  did  his  best  to  keep 
patient  before  me;  but  that  hidden  desire 
would  arise  in  his  eyes.  When  I  saw  that  it 
persisted,  and  that  his  recovery  was  slower 
therefor,  I  made  out  to  speak  to  him  about 
it  one  day  when  we  were  alone. 

"Archy,  there's  something  you  want  to 
say.  What  is  it?" 

He  would  have  denied  it  at  first :  but  that 
humour  did  not  last.  "Yes,  there  is,  Pokey, 
I  ain't  satisfied  here.  I  want  to  get  back 


232  Sons  of  Strength 

home.  Seems  like  I  can't  stay  here  no 
longer." 

"Oh,  no;  not  yet,"  I  said.  "All  our  care 
would  go  for  nothing,  if  we  tried  to  move 
you  now.  You  must  keep  quiet  for  a  long 
time  yet.  The  surgeon  wouldn't  hear  to 
your  going  home." 

"He  don't  know;  neither  do  you,  Pard- 
ner,"  Archy  answered  quietly.  "It's  some 
thing  I  don't  dare  tell  you,  neither,  just  yet. 
But  it's  got  to  be  done,  old  man.  I  won't 
get  well  until  it's  over.  I've  been  trying  to 
wait,  but  I  can't.  Everything's  come  on  me 
so  quick  and  hard,  it  seems  as  if  I  ain't  got 
strength  to  lie  quiet  and  wait.  I  don't  sleep 
much,  thinkin'  about  it.  You'll  have  to  do 
it,  Pokey.  I  would  for  you,  if  you  wanted 
it" 

"Can't  you  tell  me  what  it  is?"  I  asked. 
"Isn't  it  something  that  I  could  do  for  you  ?" 

He  laughed  feebly.  "No,  I  reckon  not. 
You'd  be  too  slow ;  and  you  wouldn't  do  it 
the  way  I  want.  It's  something  I've  got  to 
do  for  myself.  I  can't  wait.  Sometimes 
I'm  afraid  you  wouldn't  do  it,  even  if  I  asked 
you.  Then,  besides,  I  want  to  do  it  myself." 

My   strongest  promises   for  the   future 


Peace  233 

would  not  soothe  him.  In  some  dim  way  I 
grasped  at  what  he  meant;  and  guessing 
that,  I  could  not  find  word  or  argument 
against  him.  I  promised  him  that  I  would 
speak  to  the  surgeon. 

In  place  of  the  urgent  denial  which  I  ex 
pected,  the  surgeon  only  puckered  his  heavy 
brows.  "He's  restless  and  uneasy,"  he  said. 
"That's  bad.  He  ought  to  be  quiet.  He's 
a  big  strong  fellow,  and  his  will's  as  strong 
as  his  body.  I  don't  know ;  I  won't  say  yes 
or  no.  Chances  are  about  even,  any  way. 
You  can  do  as  you  like." 

That  was  equivalent  to  his  saying  yes. 
After  that,  Archy  would  not  hear  of  further 
delay.  There  came  soon  a  clear  mild  day  in 
our  favour,  and  we  made  up  a  bed  in  the  bot 
tom  of  a  light  wagon  and  set  out  upon  our 
journey  homeward. 

Though  we  started  in  the  early  morning, 
night  had  fallen  ere  we  reached  our  journey's 
end.  But  there  was  a  full  moon  afloat  in  the 
cloudless  sky,  its  soft  light  showing  the  broad 
prairie  in  all  its  wild  winter  beauty.  When 
we  came  within  sight  of  our  little  group  of 
homely  buildings,  Archy  made  me  stop  the 
horses  and  raise  his  head  from  its  pillow  so 


234  Sons  of  Strength 

that  he  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  familiar 
picture. 

"It  looks  good,  don't  it?"  he  sighed. 
"When  I  went  away,  Pokey,  I  didn't  much 
care;  but  now  I  swear  I'm  glad  to  be  alive. 
It's  worth  a  heap  to  me,  gettin'  back  here 
again." 

Despite  his  joy,  he  was  very  weak  when 
we  had  borne  him  into  the  house  and  laid 
him  upon  his  rude  couch;  nor  did  he  rest 
through  the  night.  He  tossed  and  fretted, 
speaking  impatiently  of  the  long  delaying  of 
dawn. 

"Unless  you  sleep,  Archy,  I  shall  be  sorry 
we  came  back  now.  It  wasn't  wise,  I  know. 
You  must  sleep,"  I  urged. 

"Oh,  shucks!"  he  said.  "I  don't  need 
sleep,  old  man.  I'm  rested  for  the  rest  of 
my  life,  if  I  never  get  to  sleep  again.  Sleep 
ain't  what  it's  cracked  up  to  be.  I'd  rather 
stay  awake  and  think." 

At  the  first  appearance  of  weak  daylight, 
I  prepared  his  breakfast ;  but  his  new  excite 
ment  would  not  permit  him  to  eat,  though  to 
please  me  he  toyed  with  his  food  for  a  time. 

"Oh,  take  it  away,  Pardner,"  he  said  in 
final  abandonment  of  the  pretense,  "and  then 


Peace  235 

come  and  sit  down  here  beside  me.  I  want 
to  talk  to  you."  When  I  had  done  as  he 
said,  he  took  my  hand  in  his  enfeebled  grasp. 

"There's  been  a  lot  of  things  settled  since 
we  went  away  from  here,  Pokey;  ain't 
there?"  he  asked  softly.  "But  there's  one 
thing  more  that  ain't  settled  yet,  and  I  want 
to  ask  you  about  it."  He  lay  still  for  a  little 
time,  stroking  my  hand  with  his  own,  his 
eyes  never  wandering  from  mine, — as 
though  he  sought  a  clue  for  the  beginning  of 
his  speech. 

"Pokey,  you  don't  know  how  I  feel  about 
things.  It  'most  scares  me  sometimes,  when 
I  think  how  things  have  come  out,  and  how 
I've  got  waked  up.  Suppose  things  hadn't 
happened  just  like  they  did ;  and  then — But 
what's  the  use!  They  have  happened;  and 
that's  enough,  I  reckon.  It's  enough  for 
me,  any  way.  But  I've  wondered  sometimes 
what  we're  goin'  to  do  with  ourselves  now. 
It  won't  do  to  just  go  along  from  one  day  to 
the  next,  like  we  used  to.  The  days  mean 
something  now ;  don't  they  ?  and  we've  got 
to  do  something  with  'em." 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  smiling  at  his  honest 
earnestness.  "Life  means  something  for  us 


236  Sons  of  Strength 

now,  and  we  ought  to  try  to  make  the  most 
of  it.  But  I  shouldn't  worry.  I  like  to  be 
lieve  that  the  providence  that  has  waked  us 
up  will  give  us  waking  sight  and  strength. 
I  don't  believe  we  need  be  concerned." 

"Yes,  I  guess  that's  so,"  he  agreed.  "But 
then,  we've  got  to  think  about  things  for  our 
selves,  too,  as  they  come  along;  and  there's 
one  thing  I  can't  get  quite  clear  in  my  head. 
I  can't  help  worryin'  about  it  some,  till  it's 
straightened  out.  That's  what  I  want  to 
ask  you  about.  Pokey,  have  you  ever  felt 
what  love  is, — love  for  a  real  good  woman?" 

I  had  divined  what  he  would  say.  I  felt 
my  cheeks  flush  red  and  hot,  though  a  chill 
seized  upon  my  heart. 

"I  know  what  you  mean,  Archy,"  I  said. 

He  fell  again  into  that  tense  silence,  while 
he  groped  for  words.  "It's  funny,"  he  said 
at  last.  "I've  been  wondering  and  wonder 
ing,  and  I  can't  quite  make  it  out, — just 
what  a  man's  love  is,  I  mean.  What  do  you 
think,  Pokey?" 

I  had  to  turn  my  eyes  away  from  his ;  but 
I  am  glad  to  remember  that  I  spoke  with  full 
and  perfect  honesty  in  all  that  followed. 

"I  think  there's  nothing  richer  or  sweeter 


Peace  237 

or  truer  in  a  good  man's  life,  Archy,  than  his 
love.  Nothing  in  his  life  seems  to  matter 
very  much,  save  love  and  honor.  All  the 
other  things  that  keep  us  so  busy  are  very 
small  in  comparison.  Love  is  the  man's  only 
passion  that  is  wholly  unselfish,  at  its  best. 
The  man's  true  love  for  a  good  woman  will 
make  his  life  strong  and  broad;  and  if  she 
loves  him,  his  strong  broad  life  will  be  easy 
for  him." 

He  had  listened  with  straining  eagerness. 
He  breathed  a  long  deep  sigh.  "Yes ;  that's 
about  what  I've  thought,  too.  A  man's 
right  love  is  bound  to  be  unselfish.  But 
seems  like  most  men  look  at  it  as  if  when 
they  love  a  woman,  there  ain't  nobody  else 
on  earth  but  just  that  one  man  and  that  one 
woman.  That  ain't  the  way  it  ought  to  be, 
of  course.  The  man's  love  for  the  woman 
ain't  all."  Then  he  lay  quite  still  upon  his 
pillow  for  a  time,  closing  his  eyes  wearily. 

"Pokey,  I  ain't  bein'  quite  fair  with  you," 
he  said  at  last.  "I  didn't  want  to  talk  about 
love,  by  itself;  I  wanted  to  ask  you  about 
Eliz'beth.  You'll  tell  me  true,  I  know  you 
will ;  won't  you  ?" 

"Yes,  Archy,"  I  answered,  though  my 


238  Sons  of  Strength 

voice  seemed  to  come  from  a  long  way  off. 
"What  is  it  about  Elizabeth?"  I  was  re 
solved  that  I  would  tell  the  uttermost  truth, 
if  he  asked  me. 

"Does  she  love  you?"  he  questioned 
gently. 

"I  do  not  know.  I  am  even  afraid  to  hope 
so." 

"Hope  so?"  he  echoed.  "But  you'd  like 
to  hope  so,  wouldn't  you,  if  you  wasn't 
afraid?" 

"Yes ;  I  should  like  to  hope  so,  if  my  fears 
would  let  me." 

"Then  you  do  love  her,  don't  you?" 

"Yes;  I  love  her." 

"As  much  as  you  love  me,  Pardner  ?" 

"Yes,  as  much  as  I  love  you.  I  could  not 
love  any  one  more  than  that." 

His  fingers  closed  heavily  upon  mine,  and 
a  tear  slipped  across  his  cheek  to  the  pillow. 
"That  sounds  good,"  he  breathed.  "But 
ain't  you  ever  said  anything  to  her,  then? 
You  ain't  said  anything  to  each  other,  so 
there's  any  understanding?" 

"No,"  I  answered,  when  I  had  thought  for 
a  moment.  "No;  there's  nothing  between 
us  that  we  have  ever  spoken  aloud.  There  is 


Peace  239 

nothing  beyond  what  I  have  felt  in  my  soul ; 
and  I  have  got  but  elusive  comfort  out  of 
that." 

"Do  you  think  when  a  good  man  loves  a 
good  woman,  and  there's  nothin'  to  keep  him 
back,  he  ought  to  tell  her?"  he  asked  slowly. 

It  was  after  a  sharp  struggle  that  I  spoke 
calmly.  "Yes ;  he  ought  to  tell  her." 

"If — if — "  His  eyes  closed  again,  and 
when  he  opened  them  it  was  to  say  what  I 
feared.  "Pokey,  it's  no  use.  I  want  you  to 
go  and  tell  her  to  come  here ;  will  you  ?  I've 
got  to  see  her."  And  I  went  out  to  seek  her 
and  to  do  as  he  asked. 

When  she  entered  the  cabin  with  me,  she 
went  quickly  to  the  bedside  and  sank  upon 
her  knees,  laying  her  hand  upon  his  hot  fore 
head.  "Archy,  Archy !"  she  said  softly ;  and 
that  seemed  to  give  him  peace.  He  looked 
at  me  directly,  and  I  went  out,  closing  the 
door  after  me. 

I  had  faced  death  when  death  seemed 
something  real,  and  I  had  not  shrunk.  But 
while  I  paced  back  and  forth  without  the 
house,  I  could  hardly  summon  the  fortitude 
for  facing  life ;  for  life  must  prove  a  phan 
tasm  and  a  mockery  when  I  should  be 


240  Sons  of  Strength 

brought  to  the  necessity  of  crushing  out  the 
love  which  had  become  life's  very  essence. 
I  knew  better  then  than  to  feel  empty  com 
passionate  sympathy  for  Archy,  as  for  one 
who  merited  only  pity  for  the  hopelessness 
of  his  plight.  I  knew  then  that  he  was  far 
more  of  a  man  than  I.  No  doubt  Elizabeth 
had  found  that  out  long  ago,  she  being  less 
blind  than  I;  and  I  knew  her  to  be  one  of 
those  rare  women  who  can  value  manhood 
at  its  real  worth.  It  was  a  bitter  struggle; 
but  as  my  troubled  thoughts  filled  the  slow 
minutes  of  waiting,  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
let  things  be  as  they  were  shaping  them 
selves.  For  my  brother's  sake  I  would  do 
that; — yes,  and  for  Elizabeth's  sake,  too.  I 
loved  them  both,  and  perfect  love  must  be 
able  to  bear  even  the  supreme  test  of  renun 
ciation. 

When  this  thought  had  become  fixed  in 
my  heart,  I  tried  to  think  calmly  and  clearly 
of  the  life  before  me.  There  would  no  doubt 
be  many  ways  for  filling  in  the  days  and 
years,  if  years  should  be  mine.  I  wished 
that  my  mother  might  have  lived.  There 
was  no  reasonable  hope  that  our  border  war 
fare  was  yet  at  an  end;  I  would  take  my 


Peace  241 

place  with  the  fighters,  and  might  yet  find 
chance  for  doing  something  worthy  of  a 
man.  I  even  tried  to  persuade  myself  that  I 
should  find  happiness  in  seeing  the  fruition 
of  the  happiness  of  those  who  were  so  dear 
to  me,  and  that  I  might  thereby  be  led  to 
contentment;  but  that  was  an  empty  pre 
tense,  as  I  soon  saw,  being  honest  with  my 
self.  Happy  contentment  must  choose  its 
own  paths  when  it  comes  to  us;  we  cannot 
force  it  to  tread  ways  of  our  making. 

What  passed  in  the  cabin  during  those 
minutes  I  never  knew.  After  a  long  time 
Elizabeth  came  to  the  door  and  beckoned  me 
in.  When  I  entered  she  was  standing  by  the 
bedside,  and  tenderly  stroking  Archy's  hair 
from  his  forehead.  His  eyes  were  shining 
with  joy.  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  the 
point  of  looking  at  her,  though  I  stood  across 
from  her,  taking  Archy's  hand  in  mine  and 
trying  to  let  him  feel  that  my  heart  was  right 
toward  him. 

"It's  all  right,  old  man,"  he  said ;  and  then 
upon  quick  impulse  I  looked  at  Elizabeth  and 
saw  that  her  cheeks  were  flushed  crimson. 
Archy  turned  his  glance  to  her  face  also,  and 
he  laughed  in  that  old  familiar  boyish  way. 


242  Sons  of  Strength 

"I  can't  help  it,  Eliz'beth,"  he  cried  gaily. 
"I  never  was  much  of  a  mummy.  I  can't 
keep  still.  This  old  clam  Pokey  wouldn't 
ever  find  out,  without  somebody  to  help 
him."  He  had  clasped  her  wrist,  and  though 
she  strove  to  withdraw  it  he  held  it  firmly, 
with  a  new  strength  in  his  grasp.  "No,  you 
don't!"  he  said.  "Oh,  Eliz'beth;  what's 
the  use?  Just  us  three!"  Before  I  knew 
what  he  was  about,  he  had  brought  the  girl's 
hand  to  meet  mine. 

"There !"  he  cried  gleefully.  "That's  the 
way  it  ought  to  be,  when  two  people  love 
each  other.  Don't  mind  me,  Pokey;  tell 
her.  You  know  you've  got  to  humour  a  sick 
man,  and  I  want  to  hear  you  say  it." 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

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